Barroom Brawl
by A1066
Summary: The aftermath of an epic bar fight brings simmering tension to the surface, leaving Shepherd in the middle of a biotic love-quadrangle. Fslash.
1. Chapter 1

Commander Shepherd's shields shimmered, deflecting a hail of high speed projectiles. A few made it through to slam into the thick plating that protected her chest, leaving dark dents to mark their impact. "Shit," she swore under her breath as she raced toward the overturned table to her right for cover.

The massive Krogan Battlemaster leveled his shotgun, tracking the woman as she dived for shelter. Before he could squeeze off his shot, he was lifted from the ground and sent spinning like a terrifyingly-sized pinwheel into the far wall at high speed. He slid to the floor with a loud groan and slumped, unconscious against the wall.

"Fuck. My aim is all off." Jack vaulted over the bar she had ducked behind when the shooting started. "I meant to throw him at you." She walked toward where Shepherd was climbing to her feet, her shotgun dangling loosely from the fingers of her right hand.

"You're drunk, it's understandable," Shepherd offered dryly. She stood up and crisply folded her assault rifle down, clipping it into its slot in her body armor. The weapon was still warm to the touch, evidence of the epic bar fight that had just concluded.

The cramped interior of Swilly's, a dingy dive bar in the orbiting mining platform Gamma Iota, was littered with bodies, both unconscious and dead. The patrons who had valued their skin had already fled. Like the previously airborne Krogan, all the victims displayed the logo of a minor batarian-led mercenary group, the Black Hand.

"That fucker looked at me wrong." Jack kicked a dead Batarian hard enough to cause it to roll over, exposing the massive exit wound caused by Jack's shotgun blast as it tore straight through his torso.

"So, by all means, start a big damn fight." Shepherd was too annoyed to look at the tattooed biotic, instead she busied herself exploring the craters in her armor with the tip of one finger. It would cost her a pretty credit to make the surface smooth again. Just another annoyance, like the rest that had piled on since the pirate frigate in the Arghos Rho sector had improbably ripped a hole in the Normandy.

Joker kept insisting that it was a freak accident -- a ship that size should have been nothing for the new Cerberus-upgraded Normandy. Fluke or not, they had been forced to dock at this miserable mining platform to get the supplies for such a massive repair. It would take a week to make the ship air-tight and space-worthy again, Tali had assured the Commander.

After two days of stultifying boredom aboard the docked, crippled Normandy the Commander had nearly taken Kelly up on her offer of a date. She had a strict rule against sex with therapists, so she had been maybe too eager when Jack asked if she wanted to join her on a bar crawl. Sex with Kelly might have been less devastating to Shepherd's general well-being then the mess that the evening had become.

To Shepherd's surprise, the prickly biotic had slowly become her favorite person onboard. Liara's decision to remain on Illium had left the Commander lonelier than she had realized, and far too wounded to consider another relationship. As Jack had come to accept that Shepherd wasn't actively trying to exploit her and that they shared an abiding suspicion for their employer, Cerberus, she had begun to warm incrementally to the former Spectre. After each short and emotionally fraught call to Liara, Shepherd would retreat to Jack's lair deep in the bowels of the ship to play cards. Jack's foul mood seemed to match hers, and she didn't need to worry about her energy contaminating her relationship with the rest of the crew.

Being Jack's friend was not without its perils, though, and this was a very graphic illustration of why. "Luckily, this hunk of space shit is too ugly to have a police force." Jack sauntered toward the door, kicking bodies along the way. She paused at the exit, turning to look at Shepherd who had hesitated. "Really, Commander, don't sweat it."

Shepherd shot Jack a dark glare. "I'm the one that gives orders here." Her stride was crisp and martial as she passed Jack on her way out of the ruined bar, a striking counterpoint to Jack's slouching gait. Whatever the red, Asari liquor was that she had been drinking all night had amplified the dark shift of her mood at the close of the brawl.

Jack's drunken grin morphed into a frown as she jogged to catch up to Shepherd. "A little mayhem never hurt anyone," she argued. At this point she would usually have gotten mad, but over the last few months she had come to value her friendship with Shepherd. If she was willing to admit it, she was afraid that she might drive her new friend away with the more extreme limits of her behavior. Just the thought that she cared what Shepherd thought, paradoxically made her see red with anger.

"Well, aren't you the fucking space princess!" Jack shouted at Shepherd's ramrod straight back. Her balled fist at her side began to crackle and spark with building biotic power.

The hallway leading from the bar toward the space docks was eerily empty. Apparently everyone had fled when the gunfire began. They were alone, and undeniably drunk, a bad combination for two women with anger issues. Shepherd's right hand dropped to hover next to her holstered pistol and she spun on her heels to face the angry biotic. She looked like a gunslinger and Jack knew she had the skill to back it up.

A sharp, tense atmosphere filled the hallway, thick and electric. Abandoning her military dignity, Shepherd flung herself at Jack, fists lashing out. They hit the ground, rolling back and forth in a wild tangle of striking arms and kicking legs. The noise was ear-splitting, one of them (maybe both) were shouting in rage. They rolled far enough to hit the wall and then rolled back the other direction, leaving a trail of blood drops. Someone's nose was broken.

"That's unexpected," Grunt remarked with a low rumble that must be Krogan laughter. He was walking down the hallway from the direction of the space dock next to a decidedly unamused Miranda Lawson. Cerberus had sunk too much money in rebuilding Shepherd to have her taken apart by an angry biotic woman-child.

"Get off each other!" Miranda roared, reaching out with a flat palm. Energy boiled from her hand lifting the two combatants and separating them, holding them suspended in the air for a second before they dropped back to the floor. A resounding silence followed.

Shepherd's nose was bloodied and her long brown hair had come free of its confining ponytail to cascade around her face and shadow her alarmingly swollen eye. She had gotten the best of it though, Jack was a mess. Her shoulder looked dislocated and her ribs were visibly bruised. Her eyebrow was bisected by a bleeding cut that dribbled down the bridge of her nose and was smeared across her cheek. It was annoying, to Miranda, to see a figure as impressive as Shepherd looking like a drunken mess.

Miranda hadn't noticed when Shepherd and Jack had left the Normandy originally, she was too busy doing all of the reports she had put off for weeks. The changing shape of Shepherd's mood since Illium hadn't passed her by unnoticed, as well as the increasing amount of time she was spending with Jack. She wasn't quite sure why it bothered her so much that after their odd encounter with the Asari, Shepherd had confided in Jack and not her.

Everything about Jack was vaguely repugnant to Miranda, from her tattoos to her unforgivable lack of clothing. However, Shepherd was a hero of the human race. She was statuesque and dignified, with all the power of command embedded to the very core of her personality. She was really the most impressive specimen that Miranda had ever witnessed, and she prided herself on having encountered many attractive women. Maybe it was her species-pride that was pricked by Shepherd's behavior, certainly it couldn't be because of her own interest in Shepherd.


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Chakwas made a tsking noise that alerted Shepherd to the fact that she was somewhat less than impressed. Pain lit up Shepherd's emerald green eyes while the doctor competently handled what was left of her nose. It would never be quite right again, but Shepherd was a soldier and not without her scars. Each one was a time and place she wouldn't forget, even when she was old. As markers of a life well-lived, Shepherd was grateful for each scar, the slight crook in her nose would be no different. Medi-gel had an anesthetic quality, but it took a moment to really kick in when it was applied to unbroken skin. She sighed with relief as the burning sensation finally went out of the center of her face, and she closed her eyes.

The doctor hadn't asked what had happened when Miranda and Grunt had arrived with the two women, much the worse for wear. Neither could really walk and Jack's biotic rollercoaster trip at Miranda's hands had liquefied her stomach. After throwing up most of the foul smelling liquor she had imbibed that evening, she passed out cold. Krogan weren't famous for their sense of smell, so Grunt had been considerably less disgusted by picking up Jack and throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry then Miranda was by simply having to be in any sort of proximity to her. Miranda had, with a great deal more eagerness, helped the still-conscious Shepherd to her feet. She slung one of the Commander's muscular arms over her shoulder and supported the battered, drunken woman to the Normandy's dock.

"You should probably sleep it off," Dr Chakwas suggested in her calm, bedside-manner voice. Her suggestion came too late, Shepherd had already drifted off.

Noticing how Shepherd's breathing had settled , deep and steady, Miranda pushed herself away from the wall where she was leaning. After years as Cerberus' top biotic operator, it almost felt like Miranda had become the Ice Queen on the inside that she projected outwardly. All business, all the time. It was frightening and almost a relief, though, to know that she could have feelings – feelings like the ones that kept her up at night for Commander Shepherd.

Not that those feelings were doing her much good right now. She was so angry at the Commander, feelings mixed up with her jealousy about Jack and the reality that the Commander was capable of human mistakes and human ugliness. "Alert me when she wakes up," Miranda ordered the doctor and imperiously swept out of the med bay.

Of course the Commander was capable of failure, like everyone else, Miranda mentally corrected herself as she sifted through her feelings. She didn't notice the rest of the evening crew scurrying around to speed the Normandy's repairs as she passed, heading purposefully toward her office. No, it was more that the Commander insisted on making mistakes when it came to Jack and not when it came to her. She wouldn't have suggested they got out for a bloody bar crawl that would end in an explosion of violence. Stroking her own ego a bit, Miranda wanted to believe that she could be a better influence on Shepherd.

The beep of her office door to acknowledge her presence and then the wooshing of it sliding open in front of her finally brought her back to herself. She brushed a hand through her shiny black hair, her secret pride as she walked in. The door closed firmly behind her and she locked it with a firm slap of her palm.

There was simply nothing for it. Shepherd was driving her to distraction, she had been for weeks. This was not the way a well trained, Cerberus operative behaved, mooning like a jealous teenage girl. First, the Asari and now that trashy bald-headed bitch – didn't Shepherd have any taste? Miranda dropped heavily into the chair she had positioned near the window. Unlike much of the crew which had served in the Alliance Navy, she had never thought hard about the reality of space warfare so the fact that there wAS such an unnecessary window had never bothered her in the slightest. She let her head drop against the back of the chair and closed her eyes.

She had read the entire dossier on Shepherd, from front to back, and not just once. She knew the Commander had been involved with the Asari scientist Liara T'Soni, and she knew something had changed on Illium between them. Professional curiosity had been her animating principle, at first, as she interacted with the miraculously revived Commander, but after a while it had changed. Miranda was engineered for perfection, somehow Commander Shepherd had achieved perfection naturally.

Her eyes still closed she ran her hand down her sides. She was attractive, she knew it, why was the Commander wasting her time on pining after an alien and doing God knows what with an angry slut?

***

The commlink in Shepherd's private quarters beeped. And then it beeped again. The screen flashed "Incoming Message – Illium" over and over, but there was no one there to answer it. Miles away, out several hundred credits for the attempt at a real-time link up, Liara tapped the button to drop the call. Covering her eyes with both hands, she started to cry softly.

****

Shepherd woke with a start, sitting straight up on the medbay bed that she had slept most of the night on. Her head throbbed terribly. The hangover from alien liquor was always worse than anything she ever experience with human alcohol, which was a shame since she had drank an awful lot of it the night before. At least the medigel had taken the sting out of her rapidly healing nose, but it didn't do anything for the fact it was still all shades of purple and ugly. She explored her face, most of the damage healing, with her hands. Everything was still attached, that must mean the evening was a successful one.

She hopped off the bed and was most of the way to the door when Doctor Chakwas entered. "Oh, you're awake. And walking around. That's a good sign."

Fully aware that she had not been at her best or most professional the night before, Shepherd tried to hide her embarrassment by ducking her head and retreating through the door without replying. Doctor Chakwas was an old hand with soldiers and their poor decisions – the Commander's rudeness was more amusing then upsetting to her.

When she managed to get back to her quarters without being stopped by a single crew member, Shepherd decided that she would put the day in the success column and go to bed for the rest of it. She was halfway to her bed when she noticed the alert on her computer screen. She'd missed a message, from Illium, which meant she'd been stupid drunk and passed out in the medbay when Liara had tried to call her.

"Fuck," she cursed under her breath as she stumbled to bed and dropped on her face, mentally correcting the tally. The day was a very serious failure.


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe Jack didn't know how terrifying she looked – tattooed from head to toe and fiddling with her rather large shotgun. More likely, Miranda concluded, she meant to look that terrifying. She was covering up all her deep insecurities by acting like an ass, rather than using it as motivation for being exceptional like Miranda herself. Trying not make her disgust obvious, Miranda leaned against the wall near where Jack sat on the floor cleaning her gun. Jack pointedly ignored her, but last night had been far too disastrous for far too many reasons to allow herself to be dissuaded from this talk by Jack's poor attitude.

She cleared her throat. Jack continued to ignore her, fiddling with the shotgun. Miranda tried clearing her throat again, still to no avail. "Let's stop playing this game," she finally spoke, annoyed that the first move seemed to have gone for Jack.

"I don't play games with stuck up bitches. What the fuck do you want?" Jack didn't look up. She set down one tool and picked up another one from the pile next to her.

Miranda set one hand on her perfect hip, a hint of anger twisting her features. "Can we talk civilly? I didn't come down here to take your abuse. I came down here to talk about something serious." She bit her lower lip. This was going to be harder then she realized – what if Jack couldn't see sense?

Jack grunted in reply. With a sharp snap she folded the shotgun up, studied it for a minute, and then unfolded it. She picked up a tool and began to fiddle again.

"Last night was unacceptable." Miranda had played this conversation over and over in her head last night. Each word had been picked with care – it wouldn't do if Jack thought her concern for Shepherd was simply jealousy. Of course it wasn't, Miranda was concerned with the Commander's well-being, her feelings were entirely secondary. But now that it came to delivering her well-rehearsed dialogue, it just didn't seem to be working at all. "It was…wholly unacceptable. You shouldn't be putting the Commander in positions like that. You're lucky the Commander doesn't have you thrown in the brig!"

The last bit caught Jack's attention and she was on her feet faster than Miranda had thought she was capable of. Crackling biotic energy surrounded her. "Don't ever threaten me like that!" she roared, raising her fist as if to strike Miranda who was already in the process of pushing away from the wall and gathering energy around herself.

"I said we were going to talk civilly!" Miranda shouted back. If they started a titanic battle this deep in the ship, would anyone hear it? How long would it take for someone to arrive to scrap up whatever was left of the two of them. She had no doubt that Jack could flatten her, but she was more than confident she could take Jack with her.

"Fuck you!" Jack shouted back. Obviously, the lines of communication were closed. Miranda couldn't hope to make any progress in a situation like this. Mentally she chided herself for even attempting to talk to Jack like a reasoning human being, obviously she was more feral than she had originally realized. After last night, Commander Shepherd probably wouldn't appreciate them tearing each other apart either.

"This is a lost cause. Nevermind." Miranda didn't like exposing her back to someone as unpredictable as Jack, but she also thought it would be humiliatingly cowardly to back out of the room. Pride finally won out as she spun on her heels and exited.

***

"Who does that bitch think she is?" Jack shouted at her shotgun as she settled back onto the floor, leaning against the wall. It wasn't the first time she'd been forced to converse with a weapon. "Telling me what to do, like my fucking mother." She snorted in disgust. "Unacceptable. _Unacceptable_!" The shotgun didn't reply, it just lay in her hands, inert. "What's unacceptable is that it's obvious she wants to get her manicured claws all over Shepherd. She's more obvious then a dog in heat – coming down here and thinking she'll get in my face."

The shotgun remained silent. Jack smacked it against the ground once, to punctuate her anger. Destruction always made her feel a little better, but it certainly didn't make the shotgun any more responsive. "I couldn't care less what little games she wants to play with the Commander, but she doesn't need to be fucking dragging me into it. I don't care!"

That wasn't entirely true, but the lie spoken aloud helped Jack feel a little better about her disturbing emotions. Last night, somewhere between having her ribs liquefied and doing her damndest to break Shepherd's nose, Jack had realized something. Something horrible and actually unacceptable – she was falling for Commander Shepherd. After waking up and dragging her worse-for-wear body down to her lair, she had spent several hours trying to sort out what exactly was going on.

Whatever was going on had started when Shepherd had shown up the first time with a deck of cards. Her eyes were red and puffy, Jack had been startled to realize that the Commander had been crying. Did heroes cry? Not that Jack believed that their tear-ducts were surgically removed or anything, just that heroes like Shepherd were supposed to always look like they did in the newsvids: square jawed, noble and strong. Vulnerable just wasn't part of the job description but for some sick reason it had endeared her to Jack. A crying woman wasn't a calculating woman intent on exploiting Jack for nefarious purposes, so she'd agreed to play cards.

Not that she had particularly cared at first, she'd listened to Shepherd's problems which all seemed to boil down to one problem – the Asari they had visited on Illium. Jack didn't pry, and the Commander seemed to like it that way. A couple of weeks went by and the Commander seemed to be recovering, but the form she was taking was different than the one she had before. Her eyes were shadowed now, she seemed quicker to anger. Maybe those weren't changes, maybe Jack was finally getting to see her with her guard down. Either way didn't matter – somehow, little by little Shepherd had come to matter to Jack.

Then last week she dreamed the first of a serious of explicit dreams that all followed the same pattern. A pattern which Jack would prefer not to dwell on during the day for fear that it would somehow taint the friendship she was building with the Commander. It started with the Commander inviting her up to her private quarters. Jack went, of course, dream logic dictated that it would all seem so natural that she would never question why the commanding officer would want to see her so informally. Shepherd would be sitting on her couch, muscular arms thrown carelessly across the back of it, long legs crossed nonchalantly. Her dark brown hair was down around her shoulders.

Jack would sit next to her, admiring the hard planes of stomach and the way they contrasted with the soft curve of her bosom. She would lean over, without asking, and kiss the Commander. In a dream, you could do a thing like that, it would seem natural. And it felt good, the Commander would be just that, commanding and strong. Jack wouldn't yield. The two of them would fall onto Shepherd's bed, struggling, tearing at each other's clothes.

Of course, Jack reasoned, none of that meant anything really. The Commander wanted a friend to play cards with, not a new lover. And Jack didn't want to have to feel the way she did about anyone, especially not another Cerberus tool. "Screw you!" she shouted, kicking the shotgun across the floor and away from her. Next time she saw Shepherd she'd punch her in the face again. And she'd fling Miranda out of an airlock.

***

The repairs to the Normandy were more extensive then Tali and Joker had first realized they would have to be. Days were dragging by with little to show for them – especially for Shepherd who had tried to avoid leaving her cabin since the unfortunate incident in the bar. She'd sent a short message to Liara, but she hadn't heard anything back. Jack seemed to be avoid her which left her with no one to distract her. And for some frightening reason, Miranda had Shepherd under the microscope –staring at her intently every time they passed each other in the hallway. Shepherd couldn't figure out what she had done wrong to deserve the haughty Cerberus agent's disdain – besides the obvious, but even Miranda had to be able to forgive a little mistake like a barfight now and then.

It all contributed to an overwhelming sense of sadness that kept building like a knot in Shepherd's chest, choking out the air. Things had fallen apart before. She had stood on the precipice of total disaster enough times to know that she had what it took to push with every last drop of her strength. The problem was, she didn't care to anymore. The evening at Swilly's that had ended in an unfortunate bloodbath seemed to have broken her. First Liara, now she had lost her only real friend since being revived from the last time she'd died, and Miranda, who she deeply respected, apparently found her beneath contempt. There wasn't even a geth around to shoot to lighten her mood.

At least her nose was healed. It didn't hurt when she accidently rolled on it in her sleep. Dr Chakwas ordered her to come in, so the Doctor could check her out and sign off on her clean bill of health. "Women love scars", the Doctor had commented, smiling as she tilted Shepherd's head back and forth by her chin to study the job she had done from every angle. "Of course, women seem to love you no matter what, Shepherd. That's the romance of being a soldier, I suppose. At this rate, you'll have turned most of the Normandy into a harem."'

Shepherd looked flustered and pulled her head back from the Doctor's grasp. One eyebrow arched quizzically. "What do you mean by that?"

The Doctor folded her arms across her chest and took a step back to lean her hip against the medbay bed across from the one Shepherd was perched on. "You don't really know what's going on around here, do you?"

"I have Yeoman Chambers for that. I'm more of a point and shoot sort of woman myself." Shepherd shifted her weight uncomfortably. Whatever the Doctor was talking about, it was taking her by surprise.

"Maybe you should take to Chambers then." The Doctor tapped her palm against the bed for a moment contemplating something, then she turned and headed toward her desk. "You look fine, Commander. You're ready for any more fights you might feel like getting into."

Shepherd took that as a dismissal and hopped off the bed. Yeoman Chambers was her next stop. Someone had to tell her what the hell was going on, and help her find a way to fix whatever was going wrong before she had to go save the galaxy again.


	4. Chapter 4

Yeoman Chambers was at her station in the CIC when the elevator delivered a deeply concerned looking Shepherd onto the deck. She walked in, chin down and eyes hooded. What exactly was going on onboard her ship? Being so distracted that she was failing to be a solid Commander, that wasn't like her. "Chambers?" her voice was a tacit order as she passed behind the Yeoman and didn't even stop, heading for the communications room.

She stood at the door as Kelly Chambers entered, gesturing for her to take a seat before locking the door. The Yeoman took a seat as far from the door as she could, set her interlaced hands on the table in front of her and studied the Commander intently. She had extensive training in reading and evaluating peoples' moods and feelings, but she had to admit she had a difficult time gauging Shepherd correctly. The chair she was sitting in creaked as she shifted her weight uneasily. After asking Shepherd out unsuccessfully last week, she had really preferred just to avoid the Commander entirely.

The Commander sat at the other end of the conference table and leaned back in the chair, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs, ankle on the knee. Her entire focus was on the woman in front of her. Silence extended between the two of them until it became tense enough to feel on the skin. Yeoman Chambers was distinctly uncomfortable with being the person under study for once. Finally, Shepherd narrowed her eyes before speaking in a low, serious voice, "I need you to be totally truthful with me."

Yeoman Chambers bit her lower lip and then nodded. "Aye, aye ma'am." Her voice lacked its usual brightness, eagerness to please. She prayed this little conversation wasn't about her ill-conceived pass (really more like a feint, she tried to reassure herself) at the Commander earlier that week before the fiasco in the bar.

There was another long pause before the Commander spoke up again. "Is something going on around here?" Whatever Shepherd was hinting at, she looked positively queasy as she dodged around the point. "With the women onboard or something?" Her voice dropped t the end of her sentence making her question sound tentative.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean." Kelly made a face and sat forward, scooting her chair closer to the table. With visible effort, and no small amount of relief that the pressure did not appear to be on her actions, she assumed her best counselor face. "Maybe you should explain what's going on."

For the first time, Kelly saw Commander Shepherd blush. "Well, Doctor Chakwas mentioned something about…harems or…something," the sentence trailed off lamely.

Recognition dawned in Kelly Chambers mind. Jack and Miranda – of course the Commander would be too dense to notice, wrapped up as she sorted out whatever had happened between her and Doctor T'Soni. She smiled a little. It was a happy fact of her personality that she was a gentle, outgoing person, not prone to jealousy so when she had realized that she was not the only woman with eyes on the famous Commander, she had actually been a bit relieved. She was, however, still a counselor and therapist, a position she took seriously. "Oh, well, Commander I'm not sure how much I should tell you. I mean – some people might not appreciate a breach of confidentiality in that manner."

"When did Cerberus get ethics?" The Commander snapped. Obviously this was bigger then she realized. The thought made her frown, she had been too distracted to do her job properly lately. "Names, Yeoman. If you aren't passing out helpful information at least spit out names. I'll take care of it myself."

"_I_ have ethics. My mandate only goes so far as to inform you what you should look in on when it effects the mission, not help you pry into people's personal lives." Kelly was affronted, really this time the Commander had been too rude. Beautiful green eyes and the best ass in the Alliance didn't excuse this sort of behavior. "If you promise to be civil and not break anyone's ribs… Jack, I would talk to her and, my gut says Miranda too. I think that's what Chakwas is talking about."

Commander Shepherd was up and opening the door before Kelly could interrupt. "Commander!" Shepherd turned around. "Look, if you need anyone to talk to, I'm here for you. As a friend, just as a friend." Shepherd didn't speak, but she nearly had the door open when Kelly cut in again. "And! – And you should sleep on it before you talk to anyone."

***

Shepherd stood in the shower longer then was strictly necessary. The abundance of hot water was another of Cerberus' thoroughly appreciated luxury upgrades, but they still hadn't given her quarters a full private bathroom. She didn't actually mind, she'd been in the Navy since she was barely more than a kid. It had been decades since communal bathrooms had embarrassed her.

The warm water poured over her closed eyelids, caressing her face, her lips. Every time she closed her eyes, the first thing she saw was Liara, but that instinct was beginning to face. She let her mind wander and her body relax under the steaming jet.

Jack? Yeoman Chambers had startled her with that revelation. Jack hadn't even really been on her radar, not exactly to her usual taste. Of course, Jack would be stuck mentally at that age where punching someone in the face was a sign that you liked them. God only knew how Jack would escalate if she was in love. Surprising, but not entirely unwelcome Shepherd concluded. The tattooed biotic had some points to recommend her. Jack was probably a wild tiger in bed. Her modesty level was actually below zero, so Shepherd had been afforded a good look at her chest and she was rather partial to what she saw. Jack also had a way about her that made her feel easier for Shepherd to talk to, easier than it had felt with anyone else since she woke up, patched together like a space-faring Frankenstein monster.

She turned around and let the hot water fall across her shoulders, run down her muscled back and across her sculpted buttocks. Now, Miranda was a surprise too, more for her interest in the Commander rather than because she hadn't been the subject of similar thoughts on Shepherd's part. Jacob, poor confused guy, had said Miranda needed a better man than him, but it had been clear to Shepherd from the beginning that the only men Miranda liked were _wo_men. The Cerberus' agent was more to her taste, attractive and fiercely intelligent, but she'd been playing unattainable ice queen from day one, so Shepherd hadn't let her mind stray too far in that direction.

Chambers was probably right, a good night's sleep would illuminate the matter. She reached out and twisted the dials on the shower, shutting off the water and then snaked her arm through the shower curtain to grab her towel, hanging on a hook between her's and the adjacent stall. When it was firmly secured, folded expertly between her breasts to afford her a modicum of modesty, she pushed back the shower curtain and stepped out, running directly into Miranda Lawson who was in the process of stepping out of her bathrobe and into the stall beside Shepherd's.


	5. Chapter 5

Miranda stared at Shepherd's quickly retreating form, eyes wide. The breath had caught in her lungs and didn't seem inclined to come unstuck. She swallowed convulsively, her fingers plucking at the edge of her bathrobe, then finally managed to push a breath out in one long rush. "Damn," she murmured. The sight of Commander Shepherd's long, lean legs naked beneath her neatly wrapped towel would forever be etched behind her eyelids. She licked her lips slowly then turned back to the shower, sliding her silky bathrobe off her shoulders and hanging it up before stepping in. Miranda liked the finer things in life. She was an exquisite woman, she liked exquisite things – long warm showers, silk bathrobes, good food and her latest desire Commander Shepherd.

She was not the sort of woman to long be denied the things she coveted. When you're engineered for perfection, you have a habit of getting what you want. Miranda chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the little shower stall before it was rendered inaudible by the rush of water. She had a plan.

***

Planning was like a disease that was spreading like pathogen amongst the women that had their eyes on Commander Shepherd. Jack lay on her bunk, fingers laced behind her head and legs crossed at the ankle. She had been thinking the last couple of days, lurking as the work crews rushed around. The Commander had suddenly got a bug up her ass -- she wanted the repairs done yesterday. Jack had taken the Commander's long absence and her sudden rush to get out of the system as proof that something was up. Maybe Miranda had finally thrown herself at the Commander and it had scared the shit out of Shepherd.

Jack hadn't been able to sleep without being tortured by dreams. Dreams about Shepherd, the erotic kind she usually had, and even worse, the ones where she kept accidentally walking in on the Commander and Miranda in every corner of the damn ship doing every imaginable sex act. The lack of sleep had made her even more irritable. When she'd bumped into Tali fiddling with some piece of machinery earlier, she'd nearly put the Quarian through the wall.

Luckily, a hapless engineer stepped in the way, but Dr Chakwas was sure she'd be able to put him back together as close to his original configuration as possible. The outburst hadn't even drawn the Commander down to yell at her, which had been deeply disappointing. Another opportunity to take a shot at Shepherd's face might finally cure her of the strange infatuation she had developed, or at least eased the loneliness that came with the loss of her only real friend. It didn't appear like that would be forthcoming, hence the development and forthcoming implementation of her plan.

Jack didn't see a good reason why she should let Miranda have something she so obviously wanted, especially at Jack's own expense. She'd muscle her way in on the Commander first. Like many things about Jack, her plan was admittedly not well-thought out but was extremely aggressive. She had spent the better part of the day working herself up to it. Finally, she swung her legs off the bunk she was reclining on and sprang to her feet. Now or never. She was going to confront Commander Shepherd.

***

Miranda took one final look at herself in the mirror. Teeth gleaming and white, lips perfectly shiny and luscious, make-up subtle and elegant. She tilted her chin to catch herself at a different angle. Her hair was also perfect but that had taken an awfully lot of fussing. She took a step back from the mirror and ran her hands down her sides, her narrow waist, her flared hips and her taut upper thighs. She looked damn good and she knew it. The Commander would know it too.

One last check in the mirror from all of her angles and then Miranda Lawson was set. Straightforward seemed like the best approach when dealing with someone forthright like the Commander. Long experience had taught Miranda that military-types liked things laid out neatly where they could see them, especially when it came to messy, muddled things like emotions. So, Miranda had prepared a full-frontal assault – in more than one way. There had been no mistaking the Commander's obvious interest that morning when she'd gotten an eyeful of most of Miranda's good. Just the thought of the interested glint in Shepherd's eye kindled a deep warmth below her stomach.

Her outfit was designed specifically to take advantage of Miranda's natural assets. It was a skin-tight black jumpsuit, not entirely unlike her usual Cerberus outfit, but cut decidedly lower across the bosom exposing the deep valley between her ample breasts. Something told Miranda that the Commander was a breast woman, but she wasn't willing to cede the advantage in the ass category either. Her belt was slung low over her hips, and the jumpsuit was cut tighter across her shapely ass to draw attention to it. Coming or going, Commander Shepherd was going to remember Miranda had been there.

Miranda looked once more over her shoulder on her way out, slapping the pad to lock the door to her office behind her.

***

Commander Shepherd had just settled down at her desk, turned on some soothing music and was preparing do get a little of the boring but necessary paperwork done when the door to her quarters shot open without any warning. Before she even had the chance to mentally berate herself for having been too distracted to lock it, Jack stormed in. The door whooshed closed behind the tattooed convict. The Commander found herself praying that she wasn't carrying a gun, since the biotic looked pissed. Her face was flushed, eyes wide. Shepherd looked around quickly to find something to crack open the woman's skull with if she rushed her. Only a couple of days before had her ribs really stopped aching from their last unfortunate physical altercation.

"Shepherd!" Jack barked, advancing toward her still seated commanding officer. She stopped close enough that the toes of their boots touched, well within what most polite people would consider someone's personal bubble. Shepherd leaned back as Jack leaned down, resting her hands on the arms of the chair, pining the other woman in her seat.

"Jack?" Shepherd arched her eyebrow to punctuate her question, delivered in her most imperious and commanding tone. The last time Jack had been so close to her, her nose had gotten a new shape.

"Shut the fuck up," she growled in response. The knuckles of her hands were turning white from how tightly she was gripping the chair. Her skimpy wardrobe made impressively visible the sinews of her arms and shoulders, standing out from the strain. Before the Commander could respond, Jack moved in pressing her lips against hers.

It was aggressive, hard enough to nearly bruise the surprised woman but it didn't hurt. Their lips slid against each other for a long moment – long enough for Shepherd to realize with some surprise that Jack neither felt nor tasted unpleasant. Pushing the boundaries even further, one of Jack's strong hands rose from the armrest to cup the back of the Commander's head, holding them together as she deepened the kiss, running her tongue along Shepherd's bottom lip until she instinctively parted her lips. Tiger, just like the Commander had figured.

Strangely, Shepherd was feeling herself relax into the kiss but she certainly didn't appreciate that Jack thought she was in charge. Her booted leg lashed out, sweeping Jack's out from under her. Since the other woman was leaning over, most of her weight forward, she tumbled into Shepherd's lap.

Without warning, the door whooshed open again, admitting Miranda Lawson.


	6. Chapter 6

Of all the ways that Miranda had imagined this encounter going, she had never once considered that she would walk into Shepherd's office, looking gorgeous and prepared to offer herself up on a plate, only to see that fucking convict already in the Commander's lap. Her carefully schooled composure dropped without warning and her creamy complexion turned bright red. It took all of her will power not to scream. This was not how this was supposed to go – the Asari was one thing, at least T'soni had some damn class. But Jack?!

She remained, frozen just inside the doorway, hands balling in to fists at her side while Shepherd and Jack attempted to disentangle themselves. There was a look of fury plastered across Jack's face and she was muttering profanities under her breath as she pushed off the Commander, stumbling to her feet. Shepherd didn't seem to be much help in that regard, she sat still like a statue, her eyes wide.

It was an unpleasant experience for everyone, but most of all for the Commander. She rarely found herself without words, totally lost in a situation. Her service record was littered with medals and commendations for quick and strategic thinking. The only thing that sprung to mind was to find her sidearm and shoot herself in the head before one of the two biotics in front of her decided to off her in a less gentle way.

As Jack regained her footing, she spun on her heels and then launched herself toward Miranda, one fist out. "Bitch!" The Cerberus agent was faster, though, ducking under the swing and lifting her shoulder into Jack's midsection, sending her spinning over her back. Miranda turned, watching as Jack hit the ground, landing spread-eagle.

She smirked coldly and dropped the heel of her boot against Jack's throat, holding the other woman down. "That was inappropriate, you feral little bitch," Miranda's voice fairly dripped with icy malice. How dare Jack interrupt her? How dare she be sitting in Shepherd's lap where Miranda _obviously_ belonged?

The bald biotic struggled and snarled. She set her hands against the underside of Miranda's boot and pushed. Power crackled around her, matched by the surge growing around Miranda. Things were about to get bad, and when things got bad in a violent way, Shepherd was in her element again. She sprung from the chair, hurling herself into Miranda, knocking her off of the other woman before either could unleash a lethal blast of dark energy.

They landed in a tangle of limbs with Shepherd on top, her preferred position, breasts pressed against each other and Shepherd's lean thigh between Miranda's legs. The collision with the floor knocked the air out of them and the sudden disappearance of her nemesis stunned Jack again. For a second time, the room was eerily quiet. Shepherd looked down at Miranda whose face was beginning to flush from the intimate contact and smiled unconsciously. Even rumpled on the floor, Miranda Lawson was a beautiful woman. Her body was curved just right in all the right places, a fact to which Shepherd could intimately attest as she pressed into her, pinning her to the floor.

The feeling of Shepherd's firm pressure above her, her strong arms holding her above Miranda, braced on either side of her head – it was driving the Cerberus agent mad. This was exactly how she intended the evening to end, though she had imagined it to be more naked but the floor wasn't necessarily outside the realm of her fantasy. Of course, she also hadn't planned on a glaring Jack to be looming over Shepherd's shoulder.

Shepherd hesitated for a moment, it really felt extremely good to have Miranda's breasts so damn close, and then she pushed herself to her feet. She put a restraining hand on Jack's chest, offering her free hand to Miranda to help her up. "Alright. Everyone is going to keep their hands to themselves. I may be the most popular damn woman in the galaxy but that doesn't mean everyone here isn't going to be civil," Shepherd declared in her best commanding voice, and it was a damn good one. Both women flinched at the stern inflection in her tone.

"Now, you're both going to turn around and walk out of here. _Separately. _No one lays a hand on anyone or I'll kick the offender out the airlock. I mean it, this is a goddamn ship on a mission to save the goddamn galaxy, not a brothel. I imagine that it should go without saying that we can all keep our libidos in check long enough to avoid killing each other." Shepherd turned and walked down to study her fish tanks – an obvious dismissal. She didn't move again until both women had shuffled out.

***

"I will rip your tits off and beat you to death with them if you touch her, you prissy little space cunt," Jack snarled. The verbal beat-down from the Commander had served to cow both the women, at least until they reached the elevator, but when the door slid shut they both advanced on each other, nose to nose. Jack had gotten the first insult off but Miranda was frothing with anger and unsatisfied sexual frustration, so she was not going to let it slide.

"You don't own her, bitch. And it's obvious she is so far out of her league you don't even know what fucking sport you are playing." Miranda pushed the tip of her finger into Jack's exposed breastbone.

The door slid open again, admitting Yeoman Chambers and cutting off Miranda's next snarled invective. The atmosphere was thick enough to choke a person, but Kelly smiled her best oblivious smile as she stepped inside and the door closed behind her. When her hand snaked out and tapped the elevator pad, freezing it between the floors, she surprised the combatants.

"Hey girls," she said brightly, positioning herself with her back to the closed elevator door. "This is sort of awkward, isn't it?"

Miranda's nostrils flared, her eyes widening. Poor Chambers' was about to be smeared like so much organic paste across the interior of the elevator. Actually, that might be the only point that Jack and Miranda would ever see eye to eye on. The tattooed biotic was visibly drawing energy into her, preparing to turn it outward.

"Let's all calm down for a moment," Chambers ratcheted down the brightness in her voice, dropping into a calm, counselor-like range. "I take it you all have been talking to the Commander, and it didn't go really well." This didn't require any stellar mental leap, after all Miranda was dressed in a way that was making it hard for even Kelly not to stare at her chest and even Jack looked like she had taken a bath. She rushed on before the women could interrupt. "I think there has to be some way for us all to find a non-violent way for everyone to be happy. Or at least as happy as the human heart allows."

Her suggestion was met by simmering silence, so she forged ahead resolutely. "None of this sort of behavior is going to get either of you what you want: the Commander. And it's only going to hurt the mission which in the long run is going to hurt the Commander." Kelly lifted her hand as if to ward off an interruption that was not forthcoming.

"Friendly competition, ladies. Less stabbing and ambushing. More seduction, maybe a bit of romance." The ambush comment was a dead giveaway that Kelly was a bit more of a lurker then she was letting on, but she'd been carefully monitoring the brewing situation as best she could over the last few days. As much as it had stung that Shepherd had no romantic interest in her, Kelly still had a soft spot for the Commander's well-being – being double-teamed by the amazing psychotic biotic duo wasn't good for anyone's well-being.


	7. Chapter 7

Shepherd was asleep, tangled in her sheets and coated in sweat. Strands of dark brown hair were slicked down across her face. Where the sheets were twisted the tank top she was wearing had ridden up, exposing the flexing muscles of her abdomen. Beneath her closed eyelids, her eyes twitched and jerked sightlessly following the images flashing in her brain.

It was a nightmare, but one of those dreams that was scary for no reason that could make any sense awake. Faces swimming in a rapidly expanding room – her women – Liara's face stained with tears just like the last time the Commander saw her as she walked out of her office in Illium after they had ended their affair, Miranda's face flush and lips barely parted with desire after Shepherd landed flush on top of her, Jack's intense gaze as she leaned in to kiss Shepherd. The room grew and grew until it was the galaxy and Shepherd was spinning free from her moorings, loose in the wide dark space.

EDI beeped loudly, waking Shepherd abruptly. She sat straight up, hands balled into the sheets, sweat dripping down the line of her jaw. "Something has been dropped off for you," EDI announced.

Shepherd straightened her tank top, smoothed her boxer shorts and ran a hand through her hair before she opened the door, just in case someone was waiting out in front with whatever was dropped off. No one was in the hallway, though, but a vase of bright flowers was sitting directly in front of the door to her quarters. They were a little wilted, but it was hard to get fresh flowers on a rock like the one they were stuck to, and there was a small white envelope tucked amongst the stems.

She took one last look around the hallway, half afraid that someone was lurking in a corner after everything that had been happening around the Normandy lately, and then took the flowers into her quarters and set them on the little table beside the bed. Shepherd had never been given flowers, a thought which came unbidden to her mind as she gazed at them. Of course, Shepherd was the gallant sort that gave people flowers, but maybe the professional soldier demeanor had made flowers for her seem like an inappropriate gift until now. Something about how out of place they seemed made her like them more. She leaned back into her pillows and opened the envelope, pulling out a crisp white card with no marking on the outside.

The inside had no writing, just a perfect kiss in a seductive crimson lipstick. Shepherd fanned herself with the card for a moment, allowing herself to take advantage of the faint perfume that still clung to the card. There was no doubt about it-- Miranda Lawson had infinitely kissable lips.

Smiling softly to herself, Shepherd set the card down next to the flowers and leaned back into the pillows again.

***

When Miranda swung through CIC later that day to get a subtle look at the Commander, Shepherd was smiling unconsciously while she supervised the work crews laboring on the Normandy's interminable repairs. Score one for Miranda, zero for Jack. She licked her lips and laughed softly to herself, this was going to be easy.

***

Jack had spent the better part of a day and a half trying to get her mind around what counted as romance. She'd seen Miranda on her way to drop off the flowers while she was lurking near the mess that morning, but flowers just seemed ridiculous. Shepherd wasn't a flowers sort of girl, Shepherd was a rough and tumble type. Her plan was perfect, though, way better then the last one.

After a great deal of uncharacteristic wheedling, she had talked Jacob into helping her locate a black market arms dealer. It actually hadn't been to hard considering just how shady their little slice of hell was. Jacob had provided helpful consultation and they had walked away from the sleazy Salarian with the most high-powered pistol that they could find. Shepherd was a woman that liked to shoot things and she liked to shoot things with big guns. It was one of the things that Jack liked about her.

She skulked around near the elevator on the crew quarters level until Shepherd passed on her way from one of the repair sites to catch the elevator to her quarters. "Commander!" Jack stepped out of the corner to intercept her before she could make it to the sliding doors.

Shepherd flinched visibly when she noticed Jack walking toward her, hands hidden behind her back. Her nose did not need to be broken again but she was willing to be generous, the flowers that morning having put her in a ridiculously good mood.

Jack stopped directly in front of her. Her face was shockingly open, almost vulnerable. She shifted her weight from foot to foot before she became completely still. "I…uh….I bought you….a present," she nearly shouted the last word. Shepherd was opening her mouth to reply when Jack whipped the absolutely enormous pistol out from behind her back.

Instinct took over and Shepherd dropped to floor, covering her head with her arms. She knew that Jack was upset about the way things played out in her room before, but she hadn't really pegged Jack as the kind to viciously murder someone over unrequited sexual tension. Shepherd was now very afraid that she was wrong on that count.

Jack immediately lowered her arms lamely to her sides, the gun pointing toward the ground. She couldn't think of anything to say, to explain. Everyone had turned to look at the scene that was unfolding, but luckily for the Commander's dignity, there was only a skeleton crew around. When no shot was fired off, Shepherd looked up and then leapt dexterously to her feet.

"Present," Jack said flatly, offering the gun with the grip toward Shepherd this time.

"Shit, Jack. Don't point presents at people like that." Shepherd tried to shake off the scare with a laugh. She reached up and ran one hand through her hair, but her ponytail was going to need to be brushed and put back up. With her free hand she reached out and took the pistol, hefting it experimentally. A wide grin spread across her face at the feeling of the weapon. It was a high caliber, with a holographic scope and an extended heat sink clip.

"Can't fucking believe you thought I was going to shoot you," Jack managed to laugh a little too, watching almost enraptured as Shepherd began to expertly inspect her present. She tilted it side to side, peered down the scope and finally, looked up to offer Jack a toothy grin.

"You punched me in the face and kissed me. Shooting me doesn't seem too surprising anymore." Shepherd ran a palm down the barrel of the pistol lovingly. It was cool and smooth, without realizing it, Shepherd licked her lips, drawing Jack's attention to her mouth.

"I think you liked me punching you and kissing you," Jack tilted her head to the side and looked up to meet Shepherd's deep green eyes.

"You sure do know how to make a girl feel special." Shepherd patted the gun once more. "I really appreciate it. I'll be sure to blast someone with it the next time I'm planetside."

Jack smiled awkwardly for a moment, then turned sharply on her heels and walked away. Shepherd allowed herself the luxury of letting her eyes slide down the retreating biotic's back, appreciating the lines of her muscles and the interplay of her tattoos before she stepped into the elevator. The door wooshed closed.

One point for Jack, the biotic mentally counted. Suck it, Lawson.

***

"A gun? Really, that's the best you can do? Give a lesbian a surrogate phallus, how very erotic." Miranda made a dismissive noise. The two, more or less friendly, rivals were seated across from each other. Jack had been kicked out of all the bars on the mining station except one which also happened to be the darkest, dingiest and most disgusting one. Miranda had insisted on wiping the seat of the barstool before she sat down, and she was still very careful about touching her lips to her glass of beer even though it was her third or fourth drink. Yeoman Chambers sat off to the side, pretending to care about the watery glass of beer she had been nursing for the last hour.

Somehow it had eventually seemed like a good idea to talk – at least trash talk – if they were going to keep their competition friendly…and fair. Chambers had offered to mediate. It had sounded like fun at the time, Kelly loved gossip, she loved beautiful women, and she loved helping people. The reality was only mildly amusing. She was also sort of annoyed that Miranda and Jack had picked the only bar that didn't have any dancers.

"Flowers are a fucking cliché. Some of us aren't so weak, Lawson." Jack knocked back her six or seventh shot and then slammed the glass down on the table. "Some of us also got checked out by the Commander afterwards. I think it's clear who is winning this competition." Unnecessarily, Jack indicated herself with her thumb.


	8. Chapter 8

The deep gouge chartering the ship had made in her bank account hadn't even caused Liara T'Soni to hesitate for a moment. It had taken her only a few hours to find out where the Normandy had been forced to dock for repairs and another few hours to get her business sorted enough for her to leave Illium. Shadow Broker be damned, Shepherd had stopped answering her calls. The Asari knew the things she had said to Shepherd had to be said, she couldn't go with her on this mission against the Collector's and it was better if Shepherd wasn't distracted with Liara.

But, she loved the Spectre and nothing would change that. She hadn't meant to hurt the Commander's feelings like she did, and then Shepherd had left before she could explain better. Refraining from calling for a few weeks to let Shepherd calm down had probably been a mistake in retrospect, but when Shepherd wouldn't take Liara's calls, the Asari realized the real mistake had been letting the Commander leave like that in the first place.

Liara wrinkled her nose when Gamma Iota came into view. It was a broken down, dingy looking place probably full of dirty people. The Normandy SR-2 was partially visible, but the bulk of the ship was blocked from view by one of the platform's arms. Shepherd was definitely here, her intel had been good. Now, she just had to figure out a way to get to the Commander and make the woman see that she still loved her and as soon as their respective missions were completed, they could be together. Liara shook her head and then looked back out the window, doing her best to enjoy the view as the little ship she had chartered banked, coming in to dock.

***

It had taken Shepherd a little while to figure out exactly what was going on. Kelly, Jack and Miranda had started spending a lot of time together, but none of them seemed to be treating each other in a friendlier manner. That meant that they hadn't become the Three Musketeers, the only other possibility was that they had become co-conspirators. The only conceivable object of a conspiracy by such an unholy alliance was Commander Shepherd herself, a fact which was confirmed by the ever increasing levels of romantic attention she was receiving.

Miranda asked her out to dinner and she'd been about to accept when Jack had interrupted to do the same thing. She'd declined them both, afraid of another incident like the one in her room and backed away slowly. Yeoman Chambers, usually such a fount of information had been closed lipped and simply suggested that Commander Shepherd really do some soul searching about the sorts of relationships she'd prefer in her life. Forced to flee her own ship, Commander Shepherd had went hunting for a place to drink for the first time since she had helped wipe out Swilly's.

She had wandered around the dirty platform, mentally refusing places that looked either too dark or insufficiently exciting. No one bothered her; with her armory conspicuously strapped to her and her take-no-shit attitude, Shepherd did not look like the usual easy mark that occasionally washed up in backwards place like that one.

After a while, Shepherd picked out a place. The name was displaced over the front door in neon lights, but Shepherd didn't bother to remember it. Inside it had a central bar in the middle of the room shaped like a large circle. Above the bartenders was a platform with a few dancing Asari in the usual tight outfits lighted by flashing neon lights. Along the outside walls were semi-circular booths that were mostly in shadows. It reminded Shepherd of nothing more than any of the other hundred of spacer bars she had been in her distinguished career.

Shepherd settled into an empty booth, propped the heels of her boots up on the seat across from her and began to drink. She drank and admired the dancers, feeling the alcohol work its way slowly into her brain, clouding up the thinking portions. But that was the point, after all, of drinking on a dingy mining platform, to forget whatever it was that brought you to that stage in your life. After her fourth or fifth drink, the undulating Asari's began to remind her of Liara, not that Liara had ever undulated in that fashion in her entire life. None of them had the same rich blue hue, or the same lovely intelligent eyes. Still, if she squinted really hard and let her eyes come unfocused they looked sort of like Liara.

She had done her best to push Liara out of her mind, but with the stress of everything that was occurring amongst what felt like her entire female crew, thoughts of Liara came to the fore. The Asari scientist had never once punched her in the face. She had just lifted the glass to take the final swallow of her sixth drink when an Asari not dressed like a dancer walked into the bar. It didn't take much squinting to make the person look like Liara; Shepherd speculated in her fuzzy brain that the alcohol must be working even harder. She glanced up at the dancers, drink still hovering in front of her mouth, but they still looked the same.

Shepherd tilted her head as she glanced back to the newcomer who had made her way to the bar. She closed one eye, then opened it and closed the other. Still, the Asari looked an awful lot like Liara. Did Liara have a sister? Shepherd couldn't remember – she must be drunk. The thought made her laugh and then she knocked back the rest of the drink.

Liara put her elbows on the bar and leaned toward the one-armed Turian that was tending bar. She smiled without revealing her teeth. The last view years since she had become an information broker had taught her that most aliens liked to look at Asari's, it was something she used to her advantage but the fact remained repugnant and confusing to her. "I was hoping you could help me with something."

The bartender put down the glass he was cleaning and tossed his rag over his good shoulder before leaning in toward her, partially to hear her over the music but mostly as an excuse to be near her. "Anything you need, beautiful."

"A drink," Liara slid enough money for a night's worth of drinks across the bar. "And, have you seen a human woman in here? Brown hair, green eyes, armed to the teeth."

The Turian pocketed the money too fast for Liara to catch where it went before placing a glass on the bar and filling it with a green liquid from one of the many tubes that were arrayed behind him. He nudged the drink toward Liara and gestured with his head toward the booth in the corner, furthest in the shadows. "She's over there. When you're done with your business, you should come back and see me."

Liara picked up the drink, took an experimental sip and then offered the bartender another half-smile. She ignored his proposition, stepping away from the bar in silence. From her angle she couldn't see who was in the booth, if it was even occupied at all, but she knew that Shepherd's presence left a lasting impression on people. If the bartender said she was there, she probably was. If she wasn't, at least Liara could sit down for a few minutes. She'd wasted the last hour trolling up and down the platform, asking if anyone had seen the Commander until she'd tracked her to this dive.

When she stopped at the booth, there was Commander Shepherd, long legs stretched out and propped up on the seat, green eyes a little glazed from the drinks and a whole table full of empty glasses in front of her.

"Liara," she murmured as the Asari slid into the booth, barely able to believe her drunken eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

Liara slid lithely into the booth, pushing Shepherd's boots off the seat with her thigh. "Commander Shepherd, Hero of the Citadel, I presume." Liara smiled and there was a hint of gentle laughter in her words. Her hand accidently bumped an empty shot glass as she tried to get comfortable; it tipped over and rolled before it was stopped by another cup.

"Not _your _Commander," Shepherd mumbled, her voice a little slurred. She had flinched when Liara sat down, but she hadn't been able to take her eyes off the Asari. The obvious intoxication caused Liara to frown slightly, looking down to take stock of just how much Shepherd had drank. Obviously, she had finished off enough liquor to kill a lesser woman, but she was still talking and capable of recognizing the Asari, so Liara tried not to feel guilty about pushing the conversation at a time when Shepherd wasn't one hundred percent.

Liara slid further into the booth, rounding the corner so she could sit with her thigh against Shepherd's. "Morgan," Liara murmured. It was the first time anyone had used Shepherd's first name to her since she had woken up on a slab in the Cerberus Lazarus Lab. It sent a shiver up the Commander's spine. "As soon as your mission is done, and my little mess is cleaned up, you can be my Commander forever."

Her presence was causing Shepherd's befuddled brain to lose its last vestige of coherence. The heat of Liara's body near hers, the curve of her lips, the softness in her eyes. Shepherd realized, in a physical way like a fist in the gut that took the air out of her lungs, that she would never be done loving Liara. The Asari was a permanent fixture of her psyche now, but that didn't mean that everything could work out, or would work out. Shepherd dropped her head into her hands, refusing to look at Liara as she spoke in a ragged voice, "There will always be another mission. You know that. I'm a soldier."

The silence drew out between them. Without any warning, Liara slid across Shepherd, straddling her hips with her knees on either side so that they were face to face, their hips cradled against each other. The table dug into Liara's back, forcing her to press her front flush against Shepherd. The maneuver was so far out of character that Shepherd was too disoriented to immediately react. She blinked and then shook her head, trying to clear her brain. Liara was in her lap, her breasts pressing against her, breath on her neck – there was simply no way to force herself to focus better.

"You don't have to be a soldier forever." Liara trailed her finger down Shepherd's jaw line. "We could settle down. I could go back to science…" She let her sentence trail off, realizing for the first time that she couldn't picture Commander Shepherd in another setting.

Her words connected with what was left of Shepherd's brain, snapping her back to the conversation they were having rather than the feelings that her body was developing low in her belly. "No, we can't. Can't you see, Liara? You can't even figure out what I would do. My hands are too bloody to be a farmer. I've killed too many people and too many people have died because of my choices to just walk away." Shepherd reached up, capturing Liara's hand and moving it away from her face. "You were right on Illium."

A wrinkle formed between Liara's eyebrows. She looked deep into Shepherd's eyes, falling into them almost. It had always been like that for her, Commander Shepherd was like a magnet whose power to draw her was stronger then she had ever experienced with anyone else. "I was wrong on Illium. Letting you walk away was wrong. It was the biggest mistake of my life. I've come to fix it." She leaned in to punctuate her sentence with a kiss, but Shepherd dropped her chin, ducking away from Liara's lips.

"You were right when you said that our lives aren't going to let us be together." Shepherd released Liara's hand. "I'm going to be a soldier because I can't be anything or anyone else. It's who I've always been. Without it, I wouldn't recognize myself and you wouldn't recognize me. I wouldn't be the woman you fell in love with." Shepherd lifted her eyes to catch Liara's gaze, which was rapidly filling with tears, "I wouldn't be the woman you love."

To take the sting out of her words, to comfort the beautiful woman she had deeply hurt, she reached out and wrapped her arms around Liara pulling her in to her shoulder. With a soft, sad sigh, Liara settled her face against Shepherd's neck. She cried so softly that the Commander wouldn't have realized it was happening if she couldn't feel the moisture dripping against her skin. Another sin collected for which she could never atone.

"In another lifetime, Liara, I would be yours forever. And you could be a scientist and I could be a…" Shepherd ran her fingers lightly up Liara's spine, trying to calm her. "I could be your trust assistant and bodyguard." She just couldn't imagine a job that didn't involve a gun. Liara didn't reply, eventually her tears dried up though and she pulled herself back together – one piece at a time. When she felt strong enough, she pulled away from Shepherd's embrace, awkwardly crawling out of the booth to stand in front of it.

"I love you, Morgan. I'll be on Illium if you need me." The business-like tone of voice she had managed to adopt startled even her. Liara was changing before her own eyes, and the person she would become after this might be unrecognizable to everyone. And then she was gone, and Shepherd was alone again. Alone this time with a hurt that she thought she had healed and that alcohol could do nothing to assuage.

***

After a great deal of good-natured prodding, Kelly had finally talked Jack and Miranda into going somewhere where they had dancers so that when she spaced off during their interminable bravado-fests she could have something to look at. The bar was not very full when they entered. The trio made their way toward the back because Jack insisted on always being able to put her back to a firm wall. From their angle of approach, the back booth seemed empty but upon closer inspection Kelly drew up short, grabbing Jack and Miranda to halt their progress as well.

There was Commander Shepherd and in her lap, looking extremely friendly, was a beautiful Asari woman and she didn't look like a cheap dancer. Kelly couldn't see her face but her close weren't mining platform whore standard. Her outfit was expensive and that meant only one thing – Liara T'Soni. This was a nightmare.

Before she could stop them or say anything, Jack leaned over and nudged Miranda in the ribs. "Looks like someone is getting lucky tonight," she said with a chuckle. Obvious neither woman was observant enough to note that the Asari was a cut above for a place like this, and apparently she couldn't recognize Commander Shepherd in this light.

Time to salvage things. Kelly laced her arms through Jack and Miranda's and threw her weight into it, trying to turn them around. Jack responded poorly to the attempt to be steered. She opened her mouth to shout and it looked as if she was going to crack Kelly's face in like an egg. The noise would definitely draw Shepherd's attention. Kelly was a counselor, not a soldier or a tactician, her options at this juncture were limited.

Best to do what comes naturally, she mentally decided lunging toward Jack's face, catching it between her hands and planting a deep, slow kiss on her lips. Surprisingly, the bad-tempered biotic didn't struggle. The shocking lip-lock was more than enough to draw Miranda's startled attention, as well. Whoever was getting lucky in the booth was forgotten.

Jack leaned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around the other woman's waist, forcing her to lean back. Kelly had done it to protect the Commander, but she found the aggressive play of Jack's teeth and tongue startlingly arousing. It took all her effort not to swoon. And then it was over, as if Jack had come to her senses, she abruptly released the Yeoman, breaking their kiss and nearly sending her to the floor.

"What the fuck?" Jack growled, narrowing her eyes at the blushing Counselor before glancing up to notice Miranda's wide-eyed shock. Embarrassment and then anger began to play across Jack's face and then she did what she did best when feelings got complicated, she ran out of the bar, chased by a flustered Yeoman and an amused Cerberus Agent. The entire scene happened so fast that neither Shepherd nor Liara noticed it, and the Normandy crew was clear by the time Liara left.


	10. Chapter 10

Kelly really hadn't meant to shake Jack up so badly, she just wanted to avoid the fireworks that would have resulted if the other women had figured out who the Asari all over the Commander was. It was an accident, so split second it didn't really count as a conscious decision. The kiss had seared her, the phantom feeling of Jack's lips lingered even after she returned to her station at the CIC. It distracted her while she worked on her paperwork and monitored incoming messages for Commander Shepherd.

The professional, counselor side of Kelly understood that a large part of Jack's reaction to her harmless distraction was the result of years of abuse and emotional confusion. That didn't ease the pain for the side of Kelly that was simply a woman. She'd never had anyone react that badly to being kissed by her. In fact, Kelly reassured herself, she had been told by a number of lovers that she was an exceptional kisser.

"Yeoman!" Commander Shepherd's voice finely cut through Kelly's daze. From the annoyed look on her face, she had been trying to get Kelly's attention for a bit. When Kelly refocused on the Commander Shepherd let her temper cool. "Is something wrong? You've been distracted for hours."

Kelly frowned a little; it was slightly hypocritical for Shepherd to be critical of her distraction. Ten hours had passed since Liara and Shepherd had done whatever they had done in that bar, and Shepherd's eyes were still puffy and red-rimmed as if she had only just finished crying, even though she had been on the CIC deck for a while now.

"I'm fine, Commander," Kelly assumed her professional tone. She set her fingers back on the keyboard, typing a little to look like she was productive. Shepherd kept watching her.

"The final repair report, Yeoman," Shepherd reminded her, an edge creeping into her voice and an emphatic emphasis on the Yeoman to remind Kelly of her responsibilities.

"OH!" Kelly exhaled, that's what she was supposed to be doing. Her fingers sped up, pulling up the report, checking it and sending it whizzing to the Commander's terminal. A beep alerted Shepherd to its arrival and she finally took her eyes off Kelly to look through it.

"Thank you."

The repairs to the Normandy were done. Joker's note attached to the report assured Shepherd that they could be in space by tomorrow morning after he had thoroughly rechecked all the drive systems, much to Shepherd's relief. Gamma Iota was rapidly shrinking and apparently no part of it was safe for Shepherd any longer.

After Liara's exit earlier, Shepherd had done her damndest to find the shuttle she'd arrived on, but Liara was simply cleverer than her. Six ships had docked recently; none of them listed an Asari on either the crew or the passenger lists. Obviously, Liara didn't want Shepherd to track her arrival or departure. When she'd returned to the Normandy, Shepherd had sat on the corner of her bed, holding her framed picture of Liara. She had taken it herself, the day after the battle of the Citadel and afterwards Liara had sat in her lap and kissed her senseless. She couldn't remember if she'd cried when she tucked it away with a sense of finality in the bottom drawer of her desk, her brain simply wasn't working that well, but she'd caught her reflection in the wall of fish tanks in her quarters and realized that she looked like shit. If Yeoman Chamber's look a few moments before had been any indication, Shepherd didn't look any better now.

Kelly kept glancing over at Shepherd nervously while she studied the report. Actually, the damn Yeoman was nearly twitching. From dazed to ADD in thirty seconds. Something was definitely up with her, but Shepherd's emotional fatigue left her too raw and wrapped up in herself to inquire. The strange tension between them built and built in the intervening silence. Kelly was damn near vibrating. Shepherd was becoming increasingly afraid that Kelly was going to ask her out again. She was totally blindsided by the question that Kelly finally asked.

"Are you interested in Jack?"

Kelly blushed when she spoke, her eyes flicking back and forth which served to make her look profoundly suspicious.

The question actually rocked Shepherd back on her heels. She reached up, rubbing the back of her neck, desperately playing for time. She knew Jack was interested in her. Jack was also an excellent kisser and a shark card player. Shepherd admired her ink, her surprisingly delicate features and her constant near-nudity. Jack's attitude had initially been off-putting but it masked a bleeding vulnerability that touched and attracted Shepherd, and Jack had obviously been making an effort to be…sweet. Yes, Shepherd was interested, but that didn't really seem to be the question that Kelly was asking. Shepherd narrowed her eyes, studying Kelly intently. And then it clicked. "Are you?"

The look in Kelly's eyes was the answer before she opened her mouth to stutter incomprehensibly. A jumble of words tumbled out of her mouth and none of them were recognizable. Her face flushed a deep pink and without warning she fled the CIC deck and Shepherd's concerned and slightly confused gaze.

Maybe, Shepherd mused, she should see if she could get Cerberus to spring on vibrators or hookers. There was way too much sexual tension flying around her ship.

***

Jack now had absolutely no one to talk to. Shepherd hadn't played cards since the whole fiasco at the bar, she couldn't talk to Kelly about Kelly, and if she let any of her misgivings about the moment with the Counselor go to her new frenemy Miranda, she'd lose the game entirely. Finally, she settled on Dr Chakwas, content with Doctor/Patient confidentiality to keep the older woman's lips sealed.

She made her way purposefully to the sick bay, and after making sure it was empty of all but the Doctor who was working on her computer, she hoped onto the nearest bed, letting her feet dangle above the floor. There was a pause while Doctor Chakwas finished whatever she was doing, then cleared her console's screen and looked up. "Did you need something, Jack?"

"Fuck right, I didn't come in here just to look at your pretty face," Jack's heart wasn't really in it, but she didn't want to lose her edge. It wouldn't do if the Doctor thought that being love-sick was going to cure Jack of her bad attitude. The Doctor simply raised her eyebrow and waited for the other woman to elaborate. "How do you know when you're in love?"

***

Commander Shepherd was not Sherlock Holmes, Miranda mused as she sorted through cracked data in her office, Commander Shepherd was much sexier then Sherlock Holmes, but she had definitely missed this. A shuttle, in bound from Illium, docked for five hours and then returned reversing its course back to Illium. It was chartered by a front company for an Asari information broker, named Liara T'Soni. Either Liara had been on Gamma Iota and Shepherd didn't know, or worse, Liara had been on Gamma Iota and Shepherd did know.


	11. Chapter 11

Liara had definitely been on Gamma Iota, and all of Miranda's data indicated that she had left again. Her reconnaissance of the situation with Commander Shepherd also seemed to point to a less then happy, so it seemed reasonable to assume that the visit had not ended with their romance being renewed. Miranda laughed softly to herself; her idea of reconnaissance was personally interrogating every minor crewman that had been on the CIC yesterday. She hadn't uncovered anything particularly concrete, but she had heard some interesting rumors. Apparently Kelly was acting strange, Commander Shepherd looked hung-over and the ship was getting ready to fly.

The field was wide open, Commander Shepherd was probably distraught, and Miranda was not one to be modest – she was literally perfect for comforting the Commander during these emotional trials. The only thing that remained to be done was to find the proper arena and angle of attack. Allowing the enemy to pick the place of engagement was admitting defeat before the battle had begun. Over the last week or so, as events seemed to spin crazily out of control, Miranda's resolve had solidified. Shepherd had acted like nothing but a gentleman throughout it all, and in the back of her mind where she kept the quieter emotions that usually got shoved out of the way by her rampant competitiveness and her constant icy calculations, Miranda felt bad for putting Shepherd through her little game with Jack.

She leaned back in her chair, turning off her computer screen with a flick of her index finger before lacing her fingers together, hands behind her head. Shepherd wasn't just a prize to her so that she could beat Jack at yet another thing, and Shepherd wasn't just a hot piece of ass. Though, she certainly did have a grab-able ass. Commander Shepherd had gone out of her way to be kind to Miranda, to help her, she'd been shot at to keep Miranda's sister safe even after Miranda's obfuscation of the whole truth in that situation.

No one had ever given so much to her without asking for something in return, even the Illusive Man and Cerberus expected her to toil for them in return for the safety and belonging they'd provided. Shepherd had just smiled and ducked her head, when Miranda had said 'Thank you' and never once suggested that she expected anything from Miranda in return. The moment when she had finally decided that she would have to have Commander Shepherd or die trying was as she'd helped leverage her off the ground, smeared in her own blood, her brown hair loose after Jack had attempted to make mince-meat out of her pretty face.

Part of it was undoubtedly jealousy, Commander Shepherd had become so close to Jack that she'd been willing to forgive her an impromptu nose-job – would Shepherd have been so forgiving if Miranda made a mistake? She craved attention, affection and affirmation, it was an unfortunate psychological artifact of her childhood. The other part was admiration, pure and simple. Shepherd was strong, Miranda imagined that with her muscular arms wrapped around her, she would never have to feel afraid again.

Maybe it was time to finally turn off the romance, the obvious attempts at seduction and just confront Commander Shepherd as the woman she was, without artifice, and lay it out. If Shepherd preferred Jack, or pining after blue aliens with whom she had no future, then it would be a sign that it was time for Miranda to move on. She pushed herself to her feet, running her hands down her side, smoothing them over her flaring hips – who was she kidding? No one could say no to her.

Miranda brushed past a distracted looking Kelly on her way from her office to the elevator. The Yeoman was carrying a bunch of flowers, leaning against the wall near the elevator with her brows furrowed. She thought about saying something to her as she passed, asking who the flowers were from or for, but it didn't seem like a good idea to waste her game-face on lesser mortals. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the wall of the elevator as it took its sweet.

Swoosh! Miranda stepped out and paused in front of Shepherd's door, checking her hair, licking her lips and then she reached out to tap the door control. It was locked, but she could hear the beep on the other side of the door. Miranda had managed to arrange her face into a suitably serious expression by the time the door opened to reveal Commander Shepherd, a damp towel around her shoulders in a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top. Miranda had opened her mouth to speak, but was stunned silent by the view and for a moment, the Cerberus agent lost full control of her body. She shook her head abruptly, clearing her mind and refocusing her razor-sharp wits. "Commander."

For her part, Commander Shepherd was largely unaware of the effect she had on Miranda. She was largely unaware of the effect she had on anyone until it reached up and slapped her in the face, but she was acutely aware of the effect Miranda had on her. Even in her usual uniform, Miranda cut a dazzling figure. It was her hips that really caused her to stick in Commander Shepherd's imagination, she had the kind of hips that begged to be grabbed, held… Her mind was wandering. To compensate, her greeting came out far more dispassionately then she had meant, "Miranda. There something I can do for you?" She stepped back, inviting Miranda to enter with her body language.

Miranda brushed against Shepherd, totally forgetting that she had meant to be serious and mature about this moment, relishing the contact as she passed. Without asking permission, she took a seat on the corner of Shepherd's bed and crossed her legs at the knees, leaning back to put her palms flat on the mattress. "Can I call you Morgan?"

Commander Shepherd closed the door, locking it discretely before walking to her fish tanks, offering Miranda her profile. She busied herself feeding the fish, buying time as she contemplated the request. Liara was the only person that called her Morgan. She had been a soldier so long that sometimes she forgot that her first name wasn't Commander. It was a step toward an intimacy she was not sure she had the emotional fortitude to handle in her current state. She bit the inside of her lip. It was just a name after all. "If you want to, Miranda. It's my name, and I still remember to answer to it."

Miranda's pride was pricked – Shepherd wasn't even looking at her and she was practically posing in the woman's bed! But at least she had conceded her first name, and that was a step in the right direction. She knew for a fact that Jack didn't call Shepherd Morgan. She finally sat forward, uncrossing her legs and setting her forearms on her legs. "Morgan," She tried the name on for size, and the tone of her voice must have been sufficiently enticing because Shepherd turned just her head to look at Miranda. A sheen of tears shimmered in the Commander's green eyes. Maybe she really didn't like her name. This was going to be a emotional minefield.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: So I'm not really in love with this chapter. I'm not exactly sure how I want this to go. I had a plan up until this point, but now I'm flying by the seat of my pants (and I hope it doesn't show). So don't be surprised if this doesn't get replaced by something better. Not sure yet. Here it is though.

"It's not _that _bad." Miranda offered a smile. "I can call you something else though if you're going to cry every time I use it." She laced her fingers together, pressing her palms together to relieve some of the nervous shaking that had begun to spread down her arms. She hoped Commander Shepherd was crying because she was so happy to have such a beautiful woman on her bed, not because the evening was sliding into a trash heap. "How about I call you Fran?"

"Morgan is just fine." Shepherd's tone was a little stern, but the corner of her lips began to pull up in the ghost of a smile. Before one emotion could finally win out on her face, she turned back to the fish tank, reaching out to tap the tip of her finger against the glass as her many exotic fish glided by. Her boxer shorts had slid down her right hip a little, exposing a smooth span of flesh just below her tank top. Miranda wondered if that was the outfit that Shepherd usually wore to bed; she had pegged the Commander as a commando type, but it wasn't as if Cerberus' psyche dossier included information like that. The mental image sent a warm blush up her neck and she shifted her weight, turning sideways to try to cover her embarrassment.

Now that she was here, confronted with the woman who haunted her rather frequent and exceedingly erotic day dreams, she couldn't think of a single thing to say. Shepherd gallantly rescued her, finally having gathered the nerve to turn away from the fish tank to face Miranda straight on. "I really liked the flowers," she said, the ghost of a smile growing.

"You deserve them." Miranda bit her lower lip, but she just couldn't stop the words from slipping out, "I'd shower you with flowers everyday if I had the chance."

The admission startled Shepherd a little. She was well aware of Miranda's physical interest in her, but a large part of her had suspected that her interested ended there – her statement seemed to indicate a much deeper, emotional interest. "No one has ever sent me flowers before." She ducked her chin at the admission, hiding her eyes.

"Liara never gave you flowers?" The words were out and Miranda couldn't believe the sheer stupidity. Never ever mention someone's former lover while you are trying to get in their pants, it was just common fucking sense. She shook her head quickly. "Look, don't answer that. You don't need to answer that."

The question was a mistake. A serious mistake, Miranda inwardly groaned as Shepherd pulled the damp towel off her shoulder and turned, walking away from her as she wrapped the towel around her knuckles. Just as Miranda was certain she was going to put her wrapped fist into a bulkhead, Shepherd stopped and leaned her forehead against the wall near the door, as far from Miranda as she could get in the room. "No, Liara never got me flowers."

The simple statement was delivered in such an emotionless monotone that Miranda was certain she'd messed it all up in a permanent way. Her brain nearly overheated as she desperately grasped for something to say to comfort Comman—Morgan. "I'm really glad you liked the flowers. I was hoping…Rather, I had hoped…that the flowers weren't all you liked." Somehow, Miranda mused, the feeling of forcing her whole booted foot into her mouth didn't hurt as much as it should.

"They weren't." Shepherd didn't offer any more than that. The towel unwound itself from her suddenly limp hand and slithered to the floor next to her bare feet. Miranda hadn't really noticed that Shepherd's feet were bare before, though it had to have been somewhere in the back of her mind, but now that she noticed them, it added a whole new layer of intimacy to their interaction.

She shifted her weight uncomfortably and finally sprung to her feet and began to pace, the heels of her boots clicking a staccato rhythm. "I don't like to talk about feelings." She glanced over at Shepherd. "I think you can appreciate the feeling." That Shepherd was not big into opening up about her emotions was hardly a secret. Miranda was convinced that they taught soldiers to be so damn stoic no matter the situation in basic training. Jacob had been similarly uncommunicative during their brief mistake of a relationship. "So, I hope that you can also appreciate, that me being here isn't something I've arrived at lightly."

Shepherd pushed herself off the wall, emotions firmly in check again. She berated herself silently at allowing herself to act like such a damn teenager, getting teary over flowers and nearly losing it over the mention of a former lover. Liara was hardly the first or only woman with whom Shepherd had been involved. The time was long past for her to get over that. However, the sound of Miranda's boots had become grating and she resolved to make it stop immediately. She moved with such speed and grace that Miranda found herself admiring the view instead of reacting, resulting in her ignominious collision with the bed before she really had registered what was happening. Shepherd had tackled her, mid-step, sending her spinning into the mattress where she landed heavily, bouncing a few times. The collision left Shepherd on her feet, standing over Miranda who lay slightly dazed.

"I don't take anything lightly." Shepherd laughed at herself. "Obviously."

The atmosphere in the room seemed to have shifted toward something more positive with Shepherd's actions and Miranda had never been so grateful in her life. Here she was, flat on her back, in Shepherd's bed and the Commander seemed to be lightening up. Maybe she would get lucky tonight. The only trick was how to maintain the new equilibrium without upsetting Shepherd again. Emotionally, Shepherd seemed to be quite raw.

"I know you probably aren't ready for this, so it's not like I'm expecting anything from you but, I," the words were getting caught in her throat, jamming together, mixing themselves up, "I…feel very strongly about you. I just wanted to tell you that, so that you know." The ending sounded lame even to Miranda. Love wasn't the right word; she thought she could love Shepherd, that she was beginning to fall in love with Shepherd but saying love for Miranda was too much. It put too much of her out to be crushed when she had no indication of Shepherd's own inclinations toward her. She bunched one fist into the sheets of the bed, preparing herself for disappointment.

"Strongly?" Shepherd chuckled. It was a low sound that sent a vibration through Miranda. "I hope it's strongly in a romantic way and not in a bad way."

Wasn't it obvious? Miranda screamed inside of her head. Shepherd's good humor after her intense behavior before was a little disconcerting even as it was arousing. "I seriously doubt that you get the strongly in a bad way feeling from women a lot." Her chest felt tight. Was this what a heart attack felt like? Laying on Shepherd's bed, trying her best to be sincere and nonchalant at the same time may have caused her aorta to collapse or something horrifying like that.

"You would be surprised. My specialty is military maneuvers, not romantic ones." Finally, Shepherd sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to Miranda that their thighs brushed against each other as she settled. She was silent for a long time, but it was a silence charged with concentration as if she was preparing to speak, so Miranda decided not to interrupt her, opting instead to focus on keeping her bodily systems functioning.

Shepherd slapped a palm brusquely against her bare knee, drawing Miranda's attention to the fact that her boxer shorts were riding up as she sat, exposing most of her muscular legs. "We're flying tomorrow afternoon after we get clearance from the port authority, but –" she paused and swallowed visibly, "Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow before we're off?"

"A date?" Miranda sat up, letting go of the sheet as the hard part seemed to be passed.

"Of course." Shepherd turned her head. Miranda's movement had put them very close together and Shepherd found it surprisingly hard not to lean in and kiss her. Before she answered, Miranda licked her lips which Shepherd found mesmerizing – a magnet pulling her in toward the other woman.

But then the moment passed when Miranda stood as she spoke, "I'll pick you up." Her chest felt like it was in a vice, her heart was about to give out and her entire region south of her belt was no longer controlled by her brain. It was time to cut and run, but Miranda consoled herself, she had been very courageous in coming to Shepherd's room in the first place.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Present**_

Shepherd pumped her arms and legs, sucking air through the tube inside of her breather helmet, running flat out as the bullets whizzed by her. One grazed the edge of her shield causing it to flash visibly around her for a moment but she didn't even pause. The rock she had chosen for cover was just a few steps away when the biotic blast lifted her straight off her feet, spinning her upside down in the air before slamming her back into the ground. The impact created an explosion of lights behind Shepherd's eyes, obscuring her view of the world. Bullets continued to ricochet around her as she lay dazed. It took her several agonizing moments to pull herself together – nothing was broken but she was bruised and shaken up. She rolled on to her chest and then pushed herself to her feet, staying low as she dashed the last stretch to duck behind the rock.

_**Three Nights Earlier**_

"_I didn't even know you owned a dress, Miranda," Shepherd flashed a charming smile as she pulled out the chair for Miranda Lawson who was dressed in a stunning black dress with a daringly low back and a scandalous slit up the thigh. With the grace that comes from having every single part of your genetic code being specially picked to maximize your attractiveness and physical capability, Miranda settled into the chair allowing Shepherd to push it in before she took her own seat across the table from her. Shepherd did not own a dress, and instead was decked out in her dress uniform, the high starched collar brushing her neck. Together, the couple were stupendously overdressed for the dingy little restaurant that Shepherd had picked on Gamma Iota, but neither seemed to notice._

Rock chips rained down on Shepherd's head as a close-range shotgun blast slammed into her cover. She hazarded a glance around it while her attacker's gun cooled. There was a clear path up the middle and without a second thought, she sprinted out into it, driving as hard she could. Grunt popped from cover behind an overturned stack of crates to her right, laying down cover fire. A mercenary took a shot to the face, falling backwards into his companion who was knocked off his feet.

Shepherd's team was assaulting a Blue Sun's mercenary base in the middle of an alien jungle to rescue kidnapped Alliance naval officers being held for ransom. Jacob had already taken a crippling shot to the leg, which had required his return to the Normandy, but Grunt and Shepherd had pressed forward. Things were quickly getting hairy, though, and without the backup, Shepherd was becoming increasingly worried that they might not be able to make it out the other side. Sweat trickled down her forehead and she blinked rapidly to keep it out of her eyes. Just a little further now. The thought occurred to her that Miranda would probably be upset if she died. She had seemed so happy waking up next to her the last few mornings.

_Miranda slid her hand across the table, casually covering Shepherd's with her own. Her hands were surprisingly soft for a career soldier. Shepherd smiled softly, appearing to enjoy the contact, so Miranda pushed on. She turned Shepherd's hand over, so that she could run her fingertips over her palm. There was a scar on the fleshy bit between her thumb and forefinger. She traced the tip of her finger along it. The pads of Shepherd's fingers were callused from years operating a range of weaponry. "You have amazing hands," she murmured, reaching out with her free hand to pick up her drink. Suddenly, her mouth was dry. _

"_I'm amazing with my amazing hands too," Shepherd chuckled._

"Maybe we should fall back, Shepherd" Grunt changed the heatsink on his gun, letting the spent one drop to his feet. They met in the middle behind an overturned vehicle. It was still another couple hundred yards of open ground between them and the entrance to the compound.

Shepherd snapped her sniper rifle closed, fitting into place on her armor. They were too close for the slow firing, long range weapon. She would have to rely on her present from Jack. As she unholstered the pistol she was struck by an unexpected sense of regret. She hadn't exactly explained to Jack about her and Miranda yet. She justified it mentally – it wasn't as if she even knew exactly what it was that Miranda and she were involved in. "Do you want to let those people bite it, or are we going to put on our big-Krogan panties today?" she growled.

A Blue Sun's Legionaire released a blast biotic power. The vehicle bounced backward, but remained in one piece. It did cost the pair a couple of yards from the big bay doors. "I'm not even wearing panties, Shepherd!" Grunt shouted before aiming a shot over the tire which caught the Legionaire straight in the face. "I don't even own any!"

"Go!" Shepherd roared, sprinting from cover. Once they were inside the compound, Joker wouldn't be able to evacuate them until they cleared the roof. This had the awful potential of becoming a one-way trip, but the mission came first and there were ten Alliance officers who needed saving. Grunt reacted quickly, falling in behind Shepherd. His footfalls were heavy enough to shake the ground as he charged.

"_Oh, Morgan," Miranda moaned. Her hands were tangled in Shepherd's brown hair, clutching the woman's face to her as her hips bucked up to meet the agonizingly slow strokes of Shepherd's tongue. Shepherd's palm ran up her side to grasp her full breast, squeezing as she sped up the teasing play of her tongue against Miranda's sensitive clit. Shepherd was pleasantly and arousingly surprised to discover that Miranda was a vocal lover. It was something that Shepherd preferred in her women; vocal women knew how to enjoy themselves. _

_She had screamed Shepherd's name when Shepherd's expert tongue sent her over the edge into a powerful orgasm. For some reason, though Miranda was hardly the first attractive woman to do it, the sound of her name filled her with a sharp tenderness for the beautiful woman beneath her. She kissed her way up, across the taut belly, between the deep valley between her breasts to her lips. "I think I could fall in love with you, Ms Lawson," she murmured as she pulled back, leaving the lingering taste of her own arousal on Miranda's lips. _

As she sprinted, head down, the doors in front of Shepherd began to open unleashing a torrent of armed mercs. A hail of bullets caught the startled Commander unaware. Her shields shimmered and suddenly the battery was drained from the sheer quantity of lead lobbed in her direction. "Gru—" Her shields dropped and the next shot weakened the plating on her helmet. The following well-placed shot busted through it and Shepherd's world exploded.

_Miranda wrapped her arms around Shepherd's naked, warm body, pulling her close. Their hips fit together and Shepherd's muscled thigh pressed against her sated center. She pressed her face into the crook of the Commander's neck, nuzzling at her damp hair. "I think I already have fallen in love with you, Morgan," she murmured, her voice husky from their love making. They drifted to sleep together, a pile of tangled limbs beneath Shepherd's wrinkled sheets. _


	14. Chapter 14

_**Present**_

Grunt lifted Shepherd over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, and holding his oversized shotgun awkwardly with one hand and firing wildly behind him as he dashed back the way they came. The jungle canopy blocked extrication from the air and they had pushed two miles up from the drop site. Grunt was not confident they were going to make it out, especially not with the amount of blood pouring out from under the visor of her helmet. A bullet made it through his shield, knocking him forward and he staggered, but caught himself. With a roar, he dug his toes in and pushed off. For a Krogan he was surprisingly fast and dexterous. He ducked and dodged, trying to make it hard for the mercs to get a bead on him. It was only through sheer luck that while Grunt's shields took a battering, Shepherd's prone form remained untouched.

"Ground Team to Normandy!" Grunt shouted through the radio in his helmet. "Ground Team to Normandy! We need an immediate evac!"

There was a crackle on the other end of the line and then Joker's voice broke through. "Evac on the way. Where's Shepherd?"

"On my back!" Another blast caught Grunt's other shoulder. He dropped to one knee and then pushed off again with his free hand just before a second bullet hit the ground beside where his head had been. "We need medical!"

Stamina was one of nature's gifts to the unfortunate Krogan race. Carrying a fully armored woman over his shoulder plus his own gear while he ran through a hail of bullets didn't even strain his back-up organs. He broke through the undergrowth into the clearing where they had been dropped roughly an hour before. A waterfall of blood from Shepherd's head wound had stained a trail down the back of Grunt's armor plating. Close on their heels, the tide of mercs was still shooting.

A roar of air rushed around Grunt as the drop shuttle from the Normandy descended from the sky, landing between the two officers and the oncoming horde. Bullets ricocheted off the metal exterior but none of the mercs were carrying anything of a caliber to do serious damage to it, designed as it was to withstand the extreme temperatures and stress of a standard atmospheric entrance and exit. There was a hiss of air as the hatch opened, lifting like a gull wing to allow entrance. Grunt ducked under it before it was open and sprung in, into the waiting arms of Miranda Lawson and Dr Chakwas.

_**Last Night**_

_Jack bit her lip. Kelly was stepping out of the elevator, talking animatedly to one of her friends from the CIC. She was smiling, reaching up to run her hands through her short hair when Jack stepped up to her, placing a hand lightly on her lower back to alert her to her presence. "Can I—" She was cut off when Kelly turned to smile at her, interrupting her conversation with her companion. The words jumbled up in her throat and Jack was left speechless. Kelly dropped her hand lightly to Jack's arm, said goodnight to her friend. _

"_You're looking beautiful," Jack dipped her head to whisper into Kelly's ear before sliding her hand from the curve of the Counselor's lower back around her side, pulling the woman's hip against hers. Kelly leaned against her then moved to whisper in her ear._

"_We shouldn't be doing this."_

Grunt lowered the Commander gently to the floor of the shuttle as the door shut, sealing them inside. Immediately there was pressure as the shuttle shot into the air, banking hard and then ascending faster than usual. The Krogan slumped to the floor next to Shepherd's bloody form. Miranda was cold as ice, efficient and business like as she knelt, helping Dr Chakwas ease the shattered helmet off. The bullet that had shattered the visor had bent the metal in, distorting it so that it would not slide easily off her head.

"She's bleeding," Miranda's voice was startlingly firm.

Dr Chakwas sat back on her heels, reaching up to rub her forehead with her palm. "We'll have to cut it off, and fast, we can't risk forcing it."

"What's the ETA to Normandy?" Miranda asked over her shoulder at the Cerberus officer piloting the shuttle.

"Five minutes to dock" He answered, military precision in his diction.

Dr Chakwas shook her head. "She's not going to make it. She's barely breathing. Look at the amount of blood on Grunt." She turned away from the broken form of their commanding officer to open her medical case. Her fingers slide across the multitude of tools within, selecting the appropriate one. "Can you hold her?"

Miranda licked her lips, the only sign of how affected she was by the situation that had rapidly spun out of control. Gingerly, she reached out placing her hands on Shepherd's shoulders, but she didn't apply much pressure, the other woman was completely limp, breath shallow. Dr Chakwas set the tool to the side of the helmet, pressing a switch. It whirred like a saw and the metal of the helmet began to part like butter under a warm knife. As the helmet came apart it, blood that had pooled inside it since she was laid down began to seep out, creating a pool on the shuttle floor. Miranda turned white, swallowing heavily.

"_I thought you were all about Commander Shepherd," Kelly's voice sounded small even to her own ears. It was a ridiculous question, considering her legs were wrapped around Jack's waist and she was pressed against the bulkhead deep in the bowels of the ship. Jack didn't answer. She was too busy opening Kelly's jumpsuit, lowering her head to capture her nipple in her hungry mouth. _

_Kelly's head fell back against the cool metal, her nails scraping against the skin of Jack's perpetual exposed back. Her voice was momentarily lost in the ecstasy of the feelings washing over her. When Jack pulled back to look up at her, she remember the words she meant to say. "I don't want to step on any toes. Especially not the Commander's."_

Shepherd's face was a mess. The bullet had clipped the side of her forehead, tearing a gash down to expose the fracture bone. Fragments of her visor had exploded inward on impact, sending shards tearing into her face. She was nearly unrecognizable and finally Miranda had to give, she let go of the Commander, falling backward and covering her face with her hands.

The shuttle shuddered as it came into the docking bay of the Normandy. Dr Chakwas was beginning to apply a temporary layer of medigel as the shuttle settled to the floor. The door opened, admitting a crew of medics with a floating gurney. Miranda remained crumpled on the floor as they carefully lifted Shepherd onto the gurney and sped her toward the sickbay. Grunt reached out, placing a heavy hand on Miranda's shoulder. That was the closest a Krogan raised in a glass tube could come to a comforting gesture, but she appreciated it.

"Don't worry. Shepherd'll be just fine."

"_Don't worry. Shepherd'll be just fine. She's got that Cerberus bitch to comfort her." Jack growled, angry to be interrupted by words that didn't include things like 'yes please' and 'more' or 'deeper'. Kelly's pants put up no real resistance, sliding down her hips. Jack untangled Kelly's legs from her waist so that she could push them all the way to the floor, supporting the Yeoman while she stepped out of them. _

_Even if Kelly had been inclined to say anything, and really she had forgotten entirely what they were talking about, Jack's lips captured hers and effectively silenced her. Her hands slid down Kelly's curves, reaching around to grasp her ass and pull their hips together._

Grunt and Miranda lay on the floor of the shuttle, next to the cooling puddle of Shepherd's blood.


	15. Chapter 15

The entire ship had been eerily quiet for days. People seemed to walk softer. They conversed at a whisper. The ship itself seemed to be muted – EDI's volume turned down, the silent growl of the engines subdued. The Normandy floated through the silent void of space, rudderless. Nowhere was the absence of sound more prominent then the sickbay where Dr Chakwas had been forced to abandon her long struggle to stabilize Commander Shepherd's situation.

For two days straight the Doctor had struggled, stitched, glued and applied medigel. The Commander's vitals remained obstinately weak. Her face would never be quite the same either, but no one seemed to care about that as much. At the end of the second day, Dr Chakwas had washed her hands slowly, sat in the chair in front of her computer terminal and finally informed Miranda Lawson, who was now in command, that Shepherd's condition was out of her hands. She would either recover or not, but they had reached the limits of what modern medicine could do to rig the equation. Shepherd's life was in her own hands, Dr Chakwas had calmly informed Miranda before severing the comm channel and leaning back in her chair to close her eyes for the first time in 48 hours.

Miranda slammed her fist into her desk. The crack of contact between skin and furniture was surely the loudest thing to occur on board the Normandy for some time, and she was a little surprised that everyone couldn't hear it. The noise was so satisfying though that she did it a second time -- harder, louder this time. And then again. Before she realized what she had done, the knuckles of her right hand were a bloody pulp, leaving streaks against the surface of the desk with each blow. The rational thing to do at that point would be to head to sickbay and have Dr Chakwas fix her up, but the idea of the woman she had only finally gotten into her arms, laying there broken and on the verge of death was too much. She stood up, cradling her bleeding hand to her chest and walked to her closet. She selected a white towel and wrapped it around her hand. Being alone was swiftly becoming dangerous to her mental health, and sitting in sickbay next to Shepherd wouldn't help. Securing the towel, she headed for the door, leaving the blood to dry on her desk.

She needed someone to talk to, but none of the regular crew men lounging around the cafeteria looked in the least bit interesting. She headed to the elevator and keyed in the CIC deck, maybe she would talk to Kelly, the woman was a counselor after all. The elevators onboard the Normandy were slow under good circumstances; in her unpleasant state of mind, Miranda was sure that the damn thing was taking three times as long. She tapped her foot impatiently, but it really was the normal amount of time before the door opened on the CIC deck which was still strangely muted.

Kelly was at her station, doing her best to keep up with the backlog of paperwork that was growing while Shepherd remained prostrate. Miranda was halfway to her when she noticed something odd about the woman. Something distinctly different. She stopped in her tracks, tilting her head to the side. Suddenly, she was loathe to talk to the Counselor without figuring out what exactly about her had changed. Then it hit her like a brick wall. The side of Kelly's neck, exposed as it was by the tilt of her head while she read her console, was marked by an angry red hickey. The Yeoman remained unaware of the intense scrutiny she was under as Miranda approached. She racked her brain, trying her best to fit the puzzle pieces into place and discern the identity of Kelly's lover. Nothing had occurred to her by the time she reached Kelly's side, but the mental work had the added benefit of distracting her from the somber mood that had settled over the ship and the mortal peril that Commander Shepherd was in.

"Kelly," she settled her hip against the console next to her and crossed her arms over her chest, turning so that they were facing each other. The other woman startled; she hadn't heard Miranda's footsteps, she had been distracted by a loop of images running over and over in her head. Jack pressing her against the bulkhead. Jack running her hands along Kelly's body. Jack kissing her way toward Kelly's waist.

"Miranda!" She nearly yelled the name, her voice deafening in the quiet.

Miranda's eyebrow shot up, arching quizzically. It was not the response she had been expecting. "Are you aware, Yeoman, that you appear to have been mauled by a giant, hungry space leech?" She reached up, indicating her neck in case Kelly wasn't following.

She was following. Her face turned a stunning crimson color and her hand flew up, covering the mark on her neck belatedly. She took a step back from Miranda whose presence suddenly felt uncomfortably close. "I didn't realize that the Normandy had an infestation," she tried her best to laugh it off but she was afraid that Miranda could see right through her to the thoughts that had just been occupying her thoughts.

"It doesn't. But it sure looks like your bed might," Miranda's suggestive tone of voice left no room for doubt as to her meaning.

A beep from her console interrupted the tense moment and rescued Kelly from coming up with something to say. She opened the line and Dr Chakwas didn't even wait for a greeting. "Yeoman, can you find Lawson and meet me at the sickbay. Commander Shepherd is waking up."

Miranda didn't wait around to hear the rest of the message or consult with Kelly. She dashed toward the elevator, pounding her wrapped fist against the call button over and over until it arrived. Kelly barely managed to slide in before the doors closed again. Miranda pounded her wrapped fist against the wall, willing the elevator to go faster. It only served to draw Kelly's attention to the strange bandage for the first time. "What's wrong with your—" The doors opened, cutting her off as Miranda pushed past her.

At no point did Miranda ever drop below a dead run as she burst out of the elevator and broke for the sickbay. She nearly collided with Dr Chakwas as she exploded through the door. "Where is she?" Miranda was wild with concern. The Doctor put a steadying hand on the woman's shoulder and then led her to Shepherd's bed. A white sheet was pulled up across her body and tucked under her chin. The effect was dehumanizing and sterile.

The Commander's face was beginning to heal. The mediglue that Dr Chakwas had used to hold Shepherd's torn face together created shiny seams of discoloration. Around her eyes the skin was bruised and swollen, nearly hiding the flickering of her eyelashes as they opened at the sound of Miranda's frantic approach. Her cracked lips moved but no sound came out. Miranda flung herself on top of the Commander's prostrate body, uncharacteristic tears flowing down her cheeks to drip onto the white sheet.

Uncomfortable witnessing the outpouring of intimate emotion, Dr Chakwas stepped out of sickbay, blocking Kelly's entrance with a shake of her head. The two of them loitered on the other side of the door, patiently waiting for Miranda to reappear. She had no intention of moving anytime soon, though. As soon as the Doctor was gone she swung her leg up onto the bed and climbed up next to Shepherd, propping herself up on her side so that she could fit in what little space was available. The bed certainly wasn't designed for two. Gingerly she ran the tips of her fingers over Shepherd's face, frowning.

Shepherd managed to force her unused voice to work. "I'm not so pretty anymore." Her laugh sounded like a rusty hinge opening and closing.

Miranda vigorously shook her head, sending a cascade of fresh tears to shower down on Shepherd. Words and tears were choked up in her throat. She didn't know what to say to express the depth of feeling that was breaking over her. "I'm more of an ass woman anyway," Miranda managed a joke.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Alright, we've got about one more chapter to go after this, guys. Thanks for all the reviews and support.

Miranda had finally been coaxed away from Shepherd's side. Jack had been loitering, waiting patiently for the other woman to leave. When she saw her exit, she slipped quietly into the sickbay. Her loyalties were torn leaving her incapable of comfortably answering Kelly's question. They had been laying, naked limbs tangled, when Kelly had sat up, leaning over Jack. There was obvious trepidation written across her face as she gazed intently down at the tattooed convict. Jack had waited, surprisingly nervous, as Kelly gathered herself to speak. Her voice was small and trembled a little as she spoke. "I..I know you're in love with Commander Shepherd." She started and then had to pause to take a deep breath. "And I don't think you've necessarily lost to Miranda yet. But, I just wanted to know." She paused again with another shakier breath. "I just wanted to know if you might rather pick me?"

Until that moment, Jack had never really considered what exactly it was that she was doing with the Counselor. When Kelly had kissed her in the bar that night, she had been stunned and her body had reacted entirely free of her mental control. Since then, she had more than enjoyed her physical relationship. Her feelings though were more ambivalent. Long ago she had perfected the ability to decouple her affections from sex. She was a headstrong woman and having set herself against Miranda in the competition for Commander Shepherd's feelings, it was difficult for her to see her way off that path, even as she was becoming increasingly uncertain that Shepherd would make her happy. Happy the way she didn't want to admit that Kelly was beginning to make her feel.

Kelly had taken her hesitant silence in stride. "Just think about it." She murmured, laying back down to snuggle against Jack's side. She wouldn't wait forever, they both knew that. Jack needed to sort herself out, and that was what she was doing, sneaking into sickbay. What she was going to do once she got there, she still didn't know.

Shepherd was sleeping, Jack thought, but it was hard to tell whether her eyes were open or not through all the swelling. It was beginning to go down, however. Shepherd looked a great deal more human then she had when Grunt had rescued her. Jack leaned over the prone woman, studying the damage done to her face, tracing the lines that would surely scar. She was nearly unrecognizable, but that wasn't what was suddenly bothering Jack. Her looks had never been what attracted Jack to Shepherd – not that she hadn't been a handsome woman. It was the intensity of her soul that shined through her eyes. Shepherd was a woman that felt deeply – she could be cut to her soul, and she was capable of the most astounding feats of heroism. The same qualities inside of her were drawn to their reflection in Shepherd.

She reached out her hand, brushing her fingers through Shepherd's hair. The movement caused Shepherd to stir in her sleep, but she was undoubtedly drugged and didn't wake. Shepherd had come to her because she was miserable. Jack had not made her less miserable, she had just fed her worst behavior. They had bonded over the fact they hated everyone. Could two people whose common connection was misanthropy ever make each other happy?

Kelly was a happy person, just in general. She could understand but never empathize with the burning rage behind Jack's eyes. But the big ugly hole in Jack didn't want to let Miranda win. It wasn't just the loss of face in front of a Cerberus agent. She didn't want to lose the excuse to talk to Miranda. They had become, not friendly, but capable of being in each other's presence. The competition over the Commander's affection had allowed them to compete over something other than Jack's consuming hatred toward Cerberus and Miranda's unswerving loyalty to the Illusive Man.

Shepherd's eyelids fluttered and then opened. Her green eyes were sharp, even surrounded by the damage wrought on her face. Her lips twisted, trying to smile and failing. The skin and muscles had been damaged and repaired, but in a new configuration she still hadn't mastered. "Jack," her voice was gravelly from disuse, "Did you come to gloat about how much prettier than me you are now?"

Jack pulled her hand back, startled, and folded her arms across her chest. "I was always prettier. I just don't have the sexy title to help me pick up the ladies," she did her best to inject her tone with her usual bravado.

"Is that why you have to let your tits hang out? Make up for the fact people can't scream 'Commander' while you're having sex with them?" Shepherd's voice cracked and the skin around her mouth pulled against the sealing scars.

"Fuck," Jack muttered under her breath. There was an exposed nerve hit. She scowled deeply.

"You're face is going to freeze like that and then we'll be twins," Shepherd joked. Dark humor was always the Commander's specialty, but it did nothing to assuage the cleavages in Jack's soul.

"Yeah, whatever." Jack shook her head. Do or die time. It would be so much harder to have this talk when Shepherd was mobile and capable of beating her. "Hey, I just wanted to talk to you about…something," she said seriously.

"Shoot," Shepherd replied, "As long as it's not at my face."

Jack visibly cringed at the joke. Shepherd could only make it because no one had shown her a mirror since she had regained consciousness. "How do you feel about me?" It was tactless and delivered with all the finesse of a tossed brick.

Unsurprisingly, there was a long silence. "You're a very special woman Jack. You've been kind and attentive toward me." The 'but' hung in the air, unspoken.

"But you're not in love with me," Jack finished the thought. Her jaw tensed, the muscles moving visibly under the skin of her cheek. "Don't worry." Thoughts coalesced, crystallizing in Jack's mind. It hurt, like a knife through the heart, but the growing clarity was cleansing. "I don't love you either, Commander." To take the sting out of the announcement, she unfolded her arms and set her palm on Shepherd's shoulder.

"We couldn't have made each other happy, anyway," Shepherd sounded genuinely sad. "I'm sure you're a real wild cat in bed, though." She chuckled but it was almost bittersweet. "You also have great taste in firearms."

The tense atmosphere broke. Jack smiled and leaned against the bed companionably. Shepherd rolled her head to the side to look directly at the other woman better. She struggled, managing to push herself up on an elbow. "Who is it then?"

The question caught Jack off guard. Was it obvious there was another woman? Shepherd noticed her confusion. With a shaky hand she reached up, tapping Jack's exposed collar bone where there was a bite mark, not unlike the matching one on Kelly's neck. Embarrassed, Jack turned around to hide the warm blush rising. It only served to offer Shepherd a good view of the series of long red scratch marks that marred Jack's back. "Shit! Are you having sex with a lioness?"

"Unless Yeoman Chambers is hiding in a human suit, then no." Jack spun around again, backing away from the Commander in case she didn't take the revelation well.

"Kelly!" That managed to surprise the Commander. "You and Kelly? I just didn't see that one coming." She let her sentence trail off thoughtfully. And then there was another awkward silence. "Do you love her?"

"How is that any of your fucking business?" The question was the same one that had been tormenting Jack and she was less then pleased to have it vocalized by Shepherd of all people.

Shepherd would have made an intimidating, 'Commander' face, but there was simply no way for her to exercise effective control over her expression in her condition. She settled for a 'Commander' voice, but the effect was hindered somewhat by disuse. "Yeoman Chambers is a member of my crew. If someone were taking advantage of her, that would be something that falls well within the purview of my responsibility as her commanding officer."

As a pair, Jack and Shepherd seemed to deal in nothing but awkward silences and tense moments. Another good reason, Jack concluded, that they simply weren't good for each other. Kelly had a knack for comfortable pauses in conversation that felt full even without words. She never got angry either. And she never pulled that commanding officer bullshit.

"I don't buy that load of bullshit. But, yeah, I might be in love with her." Jack sneered. "I'm sure as shit not taking advantage of her."

There was no reply. Somewhere in the last silence, the drugs had carried Commander Shepherd off again. Jack was truly alone with the truth, but she didn't have to be for long. Saying it out loud fortified her resolve. She left the sickbay, heading toward Kelly's station at the CIC.


	17. Chapter 17

After a great deal of stern orders and stoic looks, Shepherd convinced Dr Chakwas to relocate her from the dreary sickbay to her own quarters. The Doctor hadn't been pleased, but lying in sickbay had no magical powers that would speed her recovery. Time was the key ingredient. She had tucked Shepherd into her bed, checked her vital stats and set the day's dose of medication within arm reach on the bedside table. "Call me if you need anything. Though, I don't expect you'll be alone long," Dr Chakwas winked on her way out and she wasn't wrong. Only a few minutes after she left, as Shepherd was beginning to drift off to sleep again, Miranda slipped inside. She locked the door behind her and with a seductive sway to her hips, made her way to the bed.

She sat on the edge of the bed, reaching over to brush the hair back from Shepherd's face. The soft touch immediately woke her up. The healing was speeding up as Shepherd started to regain her strength over the last few days. Her eyes were no longer swollen nearly shut. The bruising all over her face was nearly gone. The angry red lines that would eventually fade to jagged white scars were still prominent. Most important to Miranda, though, was the fact that Shepherd's full lips had healed, regaining their softness. By way of greeting she lowered her head, catching them with her own, drawing Shepherd into an intense kiss. She used her tongue and teeth, consuming Shepherd with the fire of her desire.

They had sex once, and Miranda had not been able to think of anything else since. Shepherd's strong hands on her body, stroking her, loving her, taking her to heights of pleasure she hadn't previously thought imaginable. And that mouth. At first, a part of Miranda had been afraid that after the damage done to Shepherd's face would make it hard for her to respond the same way, to find her as attractive as she had before. All of those fears dematerialized in the instant when their lips met. Shepherd was still weak but she responded fiercely to Miranda's touch. Her tongue slid into Miranda's mouth, eliciting a deep moan from the dark haired woman. Her hands came up, one hand tangling in her silky hair, the other cupping the back of her neck. Even injured, Shepherd could shake her to her very core.

Finally, the overriding need to breath forced Miranda to reluctantly pull away. She drew her legs up on the bed and stretched out so that she laid with her body pressed against the Commander's side. "Morgan," she murmured in a husky voice, "You have no idea how much I missed you."

Shepherd rolled onto her side, pushing herself up on to one elbow which caused the sheet cover her to slip down, exposing her muscular shoulder. She smiled down at Miranda, an expression she had just begun to remaster. It would be a while before it was as dashing as her original smile. Making eye contact and smiling coyly in return, Miranda reached up and began to slowly unzip her jumpsuit. It fell open beneath her hand, exposing the shadow of her cleavage to Shepherd's eager gaze.

"I missed you too, Miranda," Shepherd's voice was low, tinged with desire. Her free hand came up, reaching into the opening seam of Miranda's jumpsuit to grasp her full breast. Miranda moaned in response, abandoning undressing to wrap her arms around Shepherd's shoulder, pulling her into another soul searing kiss.

Shepherd was a strong woman, but a week in bed convalescing from a near death wound to the face had sapped her of her usual vitality. Miranda's vigorous lip lock unbalanced her, sending her tumbling on top of the other woman. Their lips came apart reluctantly as the air was forced out of Miranda by the impact. "Shit, Morgan!"

It took rather too much effort for Shepherd to untangle herself and roll off of Miranda and she looked sheepish the entire time. When she had finally laid back on the bed, Miranda decided to save her the effort of holding herself up. In a smooth motion, Miranda swung her shapely leg over Shepherd's hips to straddle her, settling back onto her thighs. "I lo—" Shepherd began, but Miranda reached out to silence her with the tip of her index finger against her lips and simultaneously ground hips down against Shepherd's.

Shepherd bit her lower lip. She had never been so aroused in her life. Her breath was coming harder now and her hips were rising to increase the friction with Miranda's gyrating body. Shepherd's obvious response empowered Miranda. The ability to incite such powerful feelings in a woman as undeniably strong and as breathtakingly heroic sent a rush of wet warmth into Miranda's center. She shrugged her open top of her jumpsuit off, leaving her naked above her belt and causing Shepherd's breath to audibly catch. Smooth white skin, curves in all of the most exquisite places – Miranda had indeed been designed for perfection, a fact that Shepherd had only just begun to fully appreciate.

"I'm not sure I'm strong enough—"

She tried to speak again and this time Miranda cut her off with a deep kiss, thrusting her tongue possessively in to tease Shepherd's, teeth nipping at her lip. She drew back just enough to speak, her breath hot, "Don't worry, Morgan, I'm going to fuck you. You just have to lay there and enjoy yourself." Her tongue flicked out and traced Shepherd's bottom lip. "It will be good for the healing process, I swear."

She pulled the sheet down until it was trapped between their hips since Miranda was unwilling to unseat herself at that point. There was plenty of skin on display though. Shepherd was naturally tan and exceptionally fit. Miranda groaned, surveying the full breasts and muscled stomach on display and then she leaned forward claiming one of her hardening nipples with her mouth. Shepherd's response was immediate; her back arched up, offering more skin to Miranda's ministrations.

"Miranda," she moaned, "Miranda, baby, I love you." Her voice was throaty with her growing arousal, but the words stilled Miranda's lips. She looked up from Shepherd's breasts, smiling softly as she made eye contact with the Commander. Deliberately she reached down between them, lifting her hips to pull the sheet off Shepherd completely and tossed it aside. And then her hands and mouth where back, more insistent then before.

A spiraling heat was building below Shepherd's stomach, spreading wetness between her legs. "Touch me," she managed to whisper and Miranda obliged, placing her palm over Shepherd's navel and then slowly sliding it down to cup her sex. "Inside me," Shepherd nearly begged. With agonizing slowness Miranda fulfilled her request.

***

Kelly was focused so hard on her work that she didn't hear anything or feel anything until she felt the tickle of warm breath on the back of her neck. She went to turn, but the motion was stopped by strong hands at her waist, holding her in place. A flutter built in the bottom of her stomach, part nervous and part aroused by the strange grasp. Just as she was about to turn her head to try to see who was behind her, a warm pair of lips was pressed against her ear. "I choose you." Jack's proclamation rocked Kelly to her core and unconsciously she leaned back into her arms.

"Good. I didn't want to have to get in a fist fight with Shepherd for you," she murmured, turning her head to speak over her shoulder before capturing Jack's lips in a long kiss. She only broke away when she noticed several CIC crew members staring, mouths open.

"You're ruining my reputation, playing kissy face with everyone fucking watching," Jack growled, tugging Kelly backward with her arms. "Let's retire somewhere a little more private."

Kelly resisted Jack's pulling, laughing softly as she looked around. People quickly tried to look away, hiding their interest in the scene. "I didn't know you had a reputation as a nun," she said with feigned innocence. "And what if I am too afraid of nuns to go anywhere private with them?"

Jack growled directly into Kelly's ear before biting the lobe softly. "What's a nun?"

Kelly turned around, wrapping her arms around Jack's waist so that she could hold her body flush against the tattooed woman. She kissed her lightly on the lips again to keep from laughing. "Don't worry about it. Now, you were saying something about somewhere more private?"

Finally, the answer that Jack was looking for. Triumphantly she pulled Kelly toward the elevator, mostly oblivious to the curious and shocked stares they were still garnering. The doors hadn't even closed behind them before Jack had Kelly against the wall, insistent hands in her top. "I love you," Jack whispered into Kelly's ear just before they were interrupted by the elevator stopping to allow them to spill out to find somewhere more private.


End file.
